HP: The Sorcerer's Path
by marcwill90
Summary: As a young wizard copes with his horrific past, a transfer to Hogwarts, and new surroundings, Marcus Williams finds himself experiencing strange mysteries and mind-boggling events amongst his everyday school life. With his new friends Harry, Ron, and Hermione, can they connect the dots before it's too late?
1. The Dark Times

Hello, everyone, and welcome to my second book, which surprisingly enough, is a Harry Potter book! I always thought to myself, "There's no way I can do that!" But, after reading a few fanfics, I believe the time is ripe for me to have a go! It's been so long since I've published on Fanfiction (2 flippin' years!), but I will do my best to deliver a fantastic story! One that is unique and original, yet keeping the story true to heart. So, before we can begin the actual story, we must begin with this:

** Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series. If I did, I would be enjoying a very early retirement right about now.**

With that, we'll start with...

**Prologue: The Dark Times**

Here we go!

The years 1970-1981 were a rough time for the Wizarding World. Especially considering it was known as the First Wizarding War.

During these times, chaos and mistrust ran rampant not only on the streets, but also in people's homes and everywhere else. And leading the way was Lord Voldemort.

Known as the most powerful dark wizard of modern times, he sought to make himself all-powerful and eternal, and his best lieutenant, known as the Dark Prince, was feared to be almost as strong as him.

Murders and tortures were common between the years of 1971 and 1978, during which the Dark Prince used his vast powers to cause strife amongst the witches and wizards of the world for Voldemort, using his Metamorphagus powers to decieve their targets, and easily defeated all who dared to duel him using his vast knowledge of normal and dark magic alike. Then, they came.

Fresh graduates from Hogwarts, a number of new members of the meddlesome Order of the Phoenix were causing problems for Voldemort and Rigel, but no one caused as much trouble as Michael and Brynn Williams.

And, on June 5th, 1979, they had a meeting, one of which was filled with bad news.

"My lord, I bring a report," said Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort's third-in-command. " Rosier and Wilkes have been defeated by the Williams."

Voldemort, angry at hearing such news, said, "Those fools have failed me. How dare they die to a couple of blood traitors."

The Dark Prince looked at Voldemort and said, "My lord, I have expressed my opinion on finishing them myself. If you will permit me, I will see to it that the Williams are dead and out of your way."

"As much as I appreciate your vigor, Prince, I will see to it that your cousin will be the one to finish off Brynn Williams," said Voldemort.

"Oh, thank you, Master!" exclaimed Bellatrix, who threw herself at her master's feet. "I will not let you down!"

* * *

**Two days later...**

"What happened?!" yelled Voldemort.

Bellatrix, nearly breaking down, her face covered with tears, said, "I don't understand, my Lord! I went and cast a curse, being sure that it would kill her, and it simply bounced off!"

"Lies!" shrieked the Dark Lord. "Curses cannot simply bounce off!"

"My lord," said the Dark Prince, "Perhaps we could have her extract the memory of the duel and see it for ourselves."

As he snapped his fingers, two house-elves appeared and put a Pensieve on the living room table.

"If my cousin is willing to provide, of course," he continued to say as he looked to Bellatrix with an evil smirk.

"Of course!" exclaimed Bellatrix, who wasted no time in extracting the memory and placing it in the Pensieve.

"You haven't tampered with it, have you?" asked The Dark Prince in a menancing tone.

"I have nothing to hide from you, my dear cousin," she said to him as she bowed to him.

"Let's find out," said the Dark Lord as he went into the Pensieve.

"After you, dear cousin," Rigel said with a dark smile.

Shooting him a dark look, she went into the memory, with Rigel following right after.

The three of them were in a middle of a field where the memory Bellatrix said, "Look at you, you filty blood traitor! Prepare to die!"

Looking at this red-headed young woman of ocean blue eyes and attractive features, the redhead shouted back, "You're sadly mistaken, Bellatrix."

And, a great duel began. Brynn Williams was able to match Bellatrix spell-for-spell, twice anticipating Bellatrix firing off a Killing Curse and dodged in the nick of time.

Near the end of the duel, Bellatrix fired off a curse that Brynn Williams could not fully dodge but, instead of eliminating her, it bounced off her, making a terrible sound, but Brynn Williams was indeed unharmed.

Voldemort, who watched the fight with keen interest, said, "Perhaps she could be very useful to us."

Eventually, Bellatrix was saying, "I'm going to win, you filthy blood traitor!"

However, she felt a spell hit her in the back. As she whipped around, she saw a man with red hair, strong features, and a face full of fury saying, "Over my dead body, Lestrange!"

"Michael Williams!" shrieked Bellatrix, who went on the attack.

"Michael Williams, huh," said The Dark Prince, mostly to himself.

It was then that Michael Williams nearly overpowered Bellatrix by sheer cleverness and excellent dueling skills, which caused Bellatrix to retreat the fight.

Once out of the Pensieve, Voldemort said to The Dark Prince, "Perhaps this matter shall be dealt with by me personally."

The Dark Prince bowed to him (all the while smirking) saying, "My Lord, it would be a great honor to assist you in this endeavor."

Voldemort looked at him and said, "You just want to be the one that kills one of them."

"My lord sees everything," he simply stated.

"And I will allow you to do so," said Voldemort. "Come, Dark Prince. Destiny awaits."

"So, what's next?" asked Sirius Black.

The Order of the Phoenix was in a middle of an emergency meeting, discussing further actions after the William's duel against Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Voldemort will definitely be coming after us," said Michael to the rest of the Order. "If a fight with Voldemort is inevitable, then I would prefer to go down fighting."

"No!" James Potter roared. "Michael, I know you've accomplished a lot. Star Chaser, genius in all of your classes, very creative and unpredictable. And Brynn, you're right up there with him, except for the fact that you like to overpower your opponents. But, there is a massive difference between dueling Bellatrix and dueling Voldemort!"

"I agree with James, Michael," said Remus Lupin. "Going after Voldemort is not the right decision. Not without reinforcements."

"And he would not be alone!" said Brynn as she slammed her fist onto the table. "He will have me!"

"No one is denying your value, Brynn," said Dumbledore calmly. "But Voldemort is not to be underestimated."

"I'm not underestimating him," said Michael. "That's why I have a plan."

"And what exactly is your plan, Michael?" asked Sirius.

"Corner him and take him by surprise," Michael said. "I'll give him another wizard to fear."

With that, the rest of the members felt his anger and no one else dared argued.

* * *

"This is your plan?" asked Brynn. "Waiting out smack dab in the middle of London?"

"Yep," said Michael. "Gives us breathing room and no chances to corner either of us."

Right then, they heard a groaning sound from the sky.

They looked and, as Michael somewhat predicted, two forms were shooting out of a skull and were heading straight into their direction.

"Why are there two people coming at us instead of one?" asked Brynn, confused.

"I don't know," replied Michael.

The two forms landed thirty feet away from the two, one of them being Voldemort, and the other being a man that looked exactly like-

"Sirius?!" shouted Michael.

The man besides Voldemort said, "Most definitely not. In any case, I believe introductions are in order. I'm the Dark Prince."

"Shit," muttered Brynn. "_The _Dark Prince is here as well?!"

"I'm going to have words with Sirius when this is over," muttered Michael.

"You stand in the presence of the most powerful wizard to ever live," said the Prince as he gestured to Voldemort. "He knows of your noble blood and skill and wishes to make a most interesting offer. I only ask that you listen to him before you decide."

As the Dark Prince stood to the side, Voldemort took a few steps forward and said, "Michael and Brynn Williams, I have taken notice of your abilities and offer you both a place in my inner circle, as Death Eaters. When I rule the Wizarding World, I will ensure you two highly rewarded for your services to me. Refuse, and you will feel the wrath of a wizard more powerful than you can imagine."

Michael and Brynn looked at each other for a second before blasting the street in front of Voldemort.

As he Apparated back to The Dark Prince's side, they shouted in unison, "How's that for an answer?!"

Voldemort merely stated, "So be it."

And with that, he shot a Killing Curse at the both of them, who dodged to opposite sides, Michael shouting, "Bombarda Maxima!" and attacking Voldemort head on.

"I'll start with you, blood traitor!" Voldemort spat as he shot another Killing Curse at Michael Williams.

"You're not alone, Michael!" Brynn shouted as she made her way to Michael, only to be stopped by a fire spell that hit the road right in front of Brynn.

She looked to find the Dark Prince, wand raised, saying, "Oh, he'll be very much alone in his fight against the Dark Lord. You'll be facing me, Williams!"

"Out of my way!" she shouted as she fired off a volley of spells at him, who merely moved out of the way of each spell and raising a Shield Charm for the last spell.

"No one gets in my Lord's way or my own!" he shouted as he said, "Acerbus Navitas!" and blasted Dark Energy right at Brynn.

She immediately roared and caused the Dark Energy Wave to be negated.

_"What was that just now?!" _he thought to himself. _"That was not natural! I better start getting serious."_

All of a sudden, he metamorphed into Lily Potter, clothes and all, and said (with Lily's voice to match), "All those times in the Library, studying spells and becoming strong and you fall short against the Dark Prince. I'm ashamed to call you my friend."

"Shut up, you snake!" yelled Brynn as she blasted fire at The Dark Prince.

The Dark Prince (still looking like Lily Potter) repelled the flames with another Shield Charm, used the flames to cover himself morphing into Sirius Black and said (matching his voice), "You honestly thought those flames would do anything? Here, Brynn! Try these flames instead!"

With that, he ushered Fiendfyre in the form of a snake, who noticed Brynn and went on the attack.

To The Dark Prince's utter shock, she charged the snake, swiped his neck with her right hand, and disintegrated the Fiendfyre snake in an instant.

_"Fiendfyre burns everything that the caster wants to burn!" _thought the Dark Prince. _"I don't understand how she was able to do that!"_

He metamorphed into James Potter and said, "I thought I knew you better than this, Brynn. What kind of a friend are you if you can't stop the terror that is the Dark Prince?"

"You may look like them, sound like them, and morph to match their clothes, but I'm still able to see your true form!" shouted Brynn, who launched jinx after jinx at The Dark Prince.

Dodging all the jinxes, The Dark Prince morphed back into his normal self and stated, "So, psychology won't be effective here. In that case, I'll overwhelm you!"

He then shot pure black Dark Energy from his wand straight at Brynn, who put up a Shield Charm, which broke the moment the Dark Energy made contact and Brynn fell to one knee, doing everything she could to not fall to the ground as she was being buffeted by the Dark Energy.

"You honestly thought you could stand up to me, the Dark Prince of the Wizarding World?" shouted The Dark Prince, who persisted with the Dark Energy despite Brynn's weakening attempts to stay on her feet. "I, who defeated the Prewett Brothers and Marlene McKinnon with ease! I, who traveled far and wide to gain the power I have today! You foolish woman! You dared to come here today, and for that, YOU DIE!"

Brynn heared Michael shouting, "NO!" as The Dark Prince shouted, "SECTUMSEMPRA!"

The Dark Prince watched her struggling form as red arc of light erupted from his wand and straight at her, fully expecting to cut her existence away from the world and had an evil smile on his face.

Which faltered when he saw the curse bounce off of her skin and into the sky.

"What is this?" said The Dark Prince, who for once in his life, was very concerned.

"You've pissed me off for the last time," said Brynn, whose eyes took on the color of pure gold, went into a rage and attacked.

* * *

He saw Brynn starting to duel the Dark Prince, then looked at Voldemort, who said, "Don't you dare turn away from me, Williams!" as he fired off a Killing Curse.

Michael dodged to the side and said, "What's the matter, Voldemort? I thought your aim was better than that."

"How dare you!" he yelled as he fired off Dark Jinxes at Michael, who merely dodged them and said, "I really don't understand why everyone's afraid of you. My grandmother has better aim than you, and she's dead."

Voldemort screamed in anger and started compressing Dark Energy with his hands.

"I don't think so!" yelled Michael, who (using all of his concentration and praying that he was doing it right), started to compress Light Energy in his hands.

Both combatants let loose their energy at the other, negating on contact, but broke all the windows in the area by sheer force.

"So, this is what The Dark Prince meant," said Voldemort. "Michael Williams, 'The Copycat Wizard'. So, are you a great observator and improvisor, or are you merely a thief?"

As he asked this in his sneer, Michael replied, "Anything would be better than being a coward like you."

Deepening his rage, Voldemort cast Fiendfyre, taking the form of a snake, hissing at Michael and preparing to strike.

"First, you hide behind your Death Eaters, then behind a snake?" asked Michael. "A truly cowardly man you are...if you can be called human anymore."

With that, a flick of his wand caused the fire snake's head to be cut off and the fire disintegrated.

"I will not be belittled by you, Williams!" yelled Voldemort as he Disapparated and Apparated right in front of Michael, getting ready to cast another Killing Curse.

Michael, anticipating this move, Disapparated behind him and used the Force Spell.

"Augh!" yelled Voldemort, who conjured up a silver shield to deter the spell.

"Like this spell?" asked Michael rhetorically. "Learned this one from Dumbledore. You're familiar with him, right?"

"Don't you dare mention that Muggle-lover's name to me, Williams!" shrieked Voldemort as he started raising all the shattered glass on the streets.

_"Oh, crap!" _said Michael. _"Time to disappear!"_

So, he blasted the street in front of Voldemort as a cover so that he could use the Disillusionment Charm, then proceeded to hide behind a Muggle car.

"How dare you run away from me, Williams!" roared Voldemort as he sent the shards of glass flying in the direction of Michael.

After they took their course, Michael thought, _"Duplicatus Maxima!"_

Afterwards, he shouted, "If you had trouble hitting just one of me-"

As he was saying this, he lifted the Disillusionment Charm and Voldemort found himself looking at 20 Michael Williams.

"-imagine trying to hit all of me!" finished the 20 Michaels in unison.

"You think you're so clever, hiding behind your precious Duplication Spell," said Voldemort, who was on the brink of losing his temper altogether. "Perhaps I'll show you why every witch and wizard in the world fears me!"

_"What's he planning now?" _thought Michael.

Out of nowhere, Voldemort sent a much more powerful, omni-directional blast of Dark Energy, sweeping all of the Michaels off their feet, breaking the Duplication Spell.

Before Michael Williams could get up, he saw his wife on her knees, the Dark Prince getting ready to kill her. He shouted, "NO!", fearing for the life of his wife. However, Voldemort Disapparated and Apparated right next to Michael and shouted, "CRUCIO!"

Michael felt searing, unimaginable pain coursing through his body. An image of his wife flashed through his mind, his drive renewed knowing he had to live.

_"I will not lose! I will never lose!" _he thought.

With every bit of strength he could muster, he got to his knees, then one hand, then two hands.

"What is this?" yelled Voldemort, who was still using the Cruciatus Curse on him.

He got to one knee and, still feeling unimaginable pain, stood on his feet, saying, "I am driven by a force by which you know nothing about."

"CRUCIO!" yelled Voldemort, a bit of fear in his voice now present.

Michael merely winced as he continued, "It is because of this force that I fight you today, unafraid and unimpressed. I look in front of me and see a decrepit form of a man desperate for something he will never achieve!"

"CRUCIO MAXIMA!" shrieked Voldemort, very much afraid of Michael Williams.

He felt his his body was about to break into a million pieces, but continued, "You, who know nothing of love, shall always LOSE!"

And, with that last word, Michael yelled as loud as he could and shattered the Cruciatus Curse, making Voldemort fly back 30 feet.

Voldemort, getting on his feet, now looked at Michael Williams in an entirely new light. He saw this man, whose face was determined and spirit unbreakable.

_"This man broke my Cruciatus Curse!" _he thought. _"He's not human!"_

At that moment, Michael saw The Dark Prince coming right at him, wand raised and ready to strike.

However, he was cut off by fire that landed five feet in front of Michael.

The Dark Prince looked and cursed himself. There stood Albus Dumbledore and half of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, standing 15 feet behind Michael and Brynn, who rejoined her husband's side.

The Dark Prince Disapparated to Voldemort's side and said, "It appears we are very much outnumbered, my Lord."

Voldemort noticed everyone's presence and said nothing as the two of them Disapparated.

"Damn it!" shouted Sirius, who ran to the Williams' side. "We nearly had him!"

Michael, who fell to one knee, said, "No, we didn't. He greatly underestimated me and paid the price. Next time, he will not hesitate."

Dumbledore got Michael to his feet and said, "You've done a fantastic job today, Michael Williams. You too, Brynn."

"I don't think I did that great," said Michael.

"Oh, really?" said Brynn. "Then, what about them?"

As he looked around, hundreds of witches and wizards looked at Michael and Brynn in awe and shock.

Remembering what happened earlier, he looked to his wife and said, "Brynn, how did your body deflect that curse in your duel against the Dark Prince?"

Brynn looked away from him and said, "I'll tell you once we get back to headquarters."

Sirius looked at Brynn and asked, "You deflected a curse?!"

All of a sudden, Michael rounded on Sirius, slammed him against a wall, yelling, "And why didn't you tell us about the Dark Prince accompanying him?!

Startled, Sirius asked, "What are you talking about?"

"The Dark Prince!"yelled Michael. "The man that looks an awful lot like you nearly killed Brynn!"

Taken by surprise, Sirius said, "He's alive? You saw him?"

"Wait, what?" asked Michael.

"Now is not the time for such talk," said Dumbledore. "We must go somewhere safe."

"Agreed," said Brynn and Michael as everyone in the Order Disapparated.

* * *

**Febuary 9th, 1980**

"No, no, and no! I don't agree to this!" said Michael.

Michael, Brynn, Sirius, Lily, James, Remus and Dumbledore were having a meeting discussing what needed to happen since the Williams' duel against two of the most powerful Dark Wizards of all time.

Dumbledore, who was keeping calm, stated, "A prophecy has been made regarding the downfall of the Dark Prince, as well as Voldemort. We need to hide you two as well as James and Lily."

"But, why are you suggesting Brynn and I to move to America?" yelled Michael.

"In light of recent information, it is necessary to split up Voldemort and The Dark Prince on their respective manhunts. And familiar soil will no doubt be crucial as camoflauge."

"So what if a prophecy has been made? Big freaking deal!" yelled Michael.

"I agree with you completely, Michael," said Brynn, who was rather subdued. "I don't set much store by prophecies either. But Voldemort and The Dark Prince will set much store by the prophecies. And you can guarantee that they won't stop until they've succeeded in destroying their obstacles."

Feeling defeated, Michael said, "When would we go?"

"As soon as possible," Dumbledore stated.

James looked at Dumbledore and asked, "You've planned this out for a while, haven't you?"

"Since I've heard the prophecies," admitted Dumbledore. "I've had a couple members of the Order set up everything for our arrival. They are standing by now."

All of the people that attended stood up and said their goodbyes, all teary eyed. Michael and Brynn had a horrible feeling that they wouldn't be seeing some of their friends ever again.

"Oh, by the way," said Dumbledore. "Brynn, you might want to be careful in the next upcoming months. You might do something that could cause complications to the baby."

Everyone looked at Brynn while Michael said, "You're pregnant?"

Both Lily and Brynn looked away from their spouses while Brynn said, "4 months and counting."

"You've been pregnant since our duel with Voldemort and The Dark Prince?" asked Michael.

"Yes," said Brynn and, this time, Lily Potter.

"You too?" asked a shocked James.

"Enough," said Dumbledore. "Michael, Brynn, my sleeves."

Not wanting to upset Dumbledore, they grabbed his sleeves and Disapparted to America.

Upon their arrival, they looked at their new place and said, "Well, at least the accomodations are nice. But, what about citizenship? Jobs?"

"I've arraigned with the U.S. Ministry of Magic to give you Auror positions once the Wizarding War is over and your citizenship is already taken care of. As Brynn originates from America, she has no need to apply for citizenship."

"So, I take it you'll be Secret-Keeper," asked Brynn.

"Oh, yes," said Dumbledore. "As long as I'm the Secret-Keeper, you'll be safe. Just don't make too many ventures outside of your home until the War is over."

"Understood," said Michael.

* * *

**July 9th, 1980**

"Michael Williams, I swear to God, if you don't shut up, I'm going to tear you in half!" screamed Brynn.

As Brynn was currently in labor at their home, Michael decided to keep his mouth shut as the mid-wives kept telling her what to do.

Meanwhile, James, Sirius, and Remus were waiting just outside their bedroom, anxiously awaiting the birth of their best friend's child.

And, sure enough, they started hearing the cries of their newborn child as Michael exclaimed, "He's a boy! Our child is a boy!"

The three men came rushing in to see an adorable baby boy wrapped up in a blanket being held by Brynn with a smile on her face while Michael couldn't seem to take their eyes off him.

"What's the child's name?" asked Sirius eagerly.

"Marcus Michael Williams," stated both parents at the same time.

"Sirius, will you be godfather?" asked Michael.

Sirius looked at Michael and said, "Of course! Oh, Brynn, can I hold him?"

As Brynn let Sirius hold him, Marcus opened his eyes to reveal ocean-blue eyes.

"Hey, he's got your eyes, Brynn!" said Sirius. "And your beautiful red hair, too!"

"Well, thank goodness," said Michael. "At least he didn't inherit my looks."

Brynn proceeded to punch him on the arm and said, "You stop that! You are a very handsome man!"

Sirius sat down with Marcus in his arms and said, "Hey there, Marcus. You got two fantastic parents, so I know you'll be raised well. And, as soon as this horrible War is over, I'll teach you everything you need to know about being a prankster. You got your mother's looks, and I'm willing to bet you've got your father's personality. You're going to be an amazing wizard, I just know it!"

As Sirius and the others looked at Marcus, Michael leaned over to Brynn and said, "Hey, honey, you don't think there's a chance that-"

"He could be exactly like me?" finished Brynn. "Well, my intuition tells me that's exactly the case."

"Well, we'll find out for sure eventually," said Michael.

They spent the rest of the day conversing, anticipating Lily's baby that was due in a couple of weeks, and not worrying about anything at all.

* * *

**November 1st, 1981**

The news that the Dark Lord Voldemort had disappeared and the War was finally at an end went all over the Wizarding World, witches and wizards everywhere were celebrating.

Everyone except Michael and Brynn, who were devasted by the loss of their two dearest friends, James and Lily Potter.

While they were in their living room, mourning their loss, they heard a knock on the door that could only mean one thing: Dumbledore.

And, sure enough, they opened the door to find Dumbledore, who merely said, "May I come in? There is something I would like to discuss with the two of you."

So, as soon as they settled themselves in the living room, Dumbledore said, "I do not wish to burden you anymore than I have to, so I will make this quick. James and Lily's will was discovered in the wreckage and it states that everything they own was to be left to Harry James Potter. However, they mentioned one other thing."

"What would that be, Dumbledore?" asked Michael.

"The will also states that, in an event that the two of them are unable to take care of their child, that full custody is to be rewarded to Michael and Brynn Williams of Harry."

"Well, where is Harry?" said Brynn, excited to see him.

"I regret to inform you that I cannot allow you to uphold this part of their will," said Dumbledore, tears running down his cheeks.

"WHY NOT?!" roared Michael.

"There's no doubt that Voldemort will one day return and, when that happens, Harry will need a place to go to that will shield him entirely from Voldemort. I have Harry currently living with his one remaining blood relative's family until he is of age or no longer calls it his home."

"That Muggle family?" asked Brynn in horror.

"First, you move me and my wife away from my friends, to a place where we can't help them," said Michael, his voice shaking with fury, "And then this?!"

"Believe me, Michael Williams, if I could, I would be more than glad to let you two raise Harry," said Dumbledore. "However, this is for his safety, and there are many things I wish for Harry to be oblivious of until he's old enough to understand."

Brynn looked at her husband, fully expecting him to attack Dumbledore. To her utter surprise, he slumped and said, "I understand, Dumbledore. I really do. It's just...why? Why was I not able to save the people I love?"

Dumbledore, who couldn't reply to that, looked to Brynn and said, "I have one more thing to tell the two of you. You're officially hired by the U.S. Ministry of Magic as Aurors. They are very excited to have you start tomorrow."

He looked to Michael and said, "I'm sorry for causing you so much pain."

"Don't apologize, Dumbledore," said Michael, not meeting his eyes. "I know you didn't mean for any of this to happen."

With that, Dumbledore bid them farewell.

* * *

**July 9th, 1985**

"Happy Birthday, Marcus!" exclaimed Michael and Brynn.

They were in their living room, celebrating Marcus's fifth birthday with cake and presents.

"Thanks, Mommy! Thanks, Daddy!" said Marcus with a beautiful smile.

"Look, Brynn, he's a spitting image of you," said Michael, to which Brynn could not deny, with their son's red hair and ocean-blue eyes.

"Well, I'm sure he's got his daddy's personality," said Brynn as she kissed his cheek while Marcus blew out the birthday candles.

They spent the afternoon watching Marcus opening up his presents, which contained a toy broomstick and a few kid books, one of them being an encyclopedia of pranks and jokes.

"I wonder where the babysitter could be?" asked Michael. "We've still got to get him his last gift, and it just came in today."

Right on cue, they heard a knock at the door, and they opened it to reveal Orielle Caldwater, Marcus's babysitter.

Marcus noticed right away and ran to her, saying, "Orielle!"

"There's the birthday boy!" exclaimed Orielle, who promptly gave Marcus a hug.

"Well, Orielle, we're going to head into the city for a little bit," said Michael. "Keep an eye out on Marcus while we're gone, all right?"

"Will do, Mr. Williams!" said Orielle.

Once they left, Orielle looked at Marcus and said, "Hey, Marcus, do you want to play outside?"

"Yeah!" exclaimed Marcus with another big smile.

So, they played outside for a while, flying on brooms playing Chaser, playing hide-and-seek, all their favorite games.

Eventually, Orielle looked to Marcus and asked, "So, what do you want to do next?"

Marcus thought for a minute and said, "I want to play duel!"

All of a sudden, a voice out of nowhere said, "That sounds like fun. Mind if I join?"

They looked to find a tall man wearing a dark wizard cloak over a suit, with dark straight hair and red eyes, wand out and had a dark smile on his face.

"Marcus, get behind me!" yelled Orielle as she whipped out her wand.

Unfortunately, the man in black was too quick for her as he shouted, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Marcus watched as the bright green light struck Orielle, who died before she even hit the ground.

Marcus ran to her, falling on his knees, shaking her, saying, "Orielle! Orielle! Get up! Get up!"

"She's not getting up," said the man. "She's dead, killed by my Killing Curse."

Marcus looked at the man, terrified and was about to yell for help when the man cried, "Silencio!" and the young child found himself unable to say anything.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself before," said the man, who locked Marcus in the middle of the air, his limbs spread apart, as if he were chained to a wall. "I'm the Dark Prince. Perhaps your parents told you about me?"

When he shook his head, The Dark Prince sighed and said, "Dear, dear, I'm disappointed. Surely, someone of my stature does not deserve to be forgotten. But, enough about me. I'm here for you."

The Dark Prince started to walk around the boy as he continued, "Do you have any idea how long it took to hunt down your mother and father, boy?" He chuckled as he said, "No, of course not. How could you? You didn't even know I existed until this very moment. No, after the Dark Lord disappeared, I knew I had to shift my focus. Sure, I could look for him, help him revive, but as long as I know that I can be killed, why not take care of the problem first? Of course, that was much easier said than done, considering that Muggle-loving fool's protection. It took me a long time to find out that your family was out living in America, right outisde New York City. And, naturally, there was your mother to worry about, with her unnatural abilities, as well as your father. That is, until very recently. However, there is a way to avoid this unpleasantness. All you have to do is join me. Become one of my servants, and I'll show you what it means to be powerful."

Marcus, having regained his voice, looked at him and said, "I'd rather die before I join you."

The Dark Prince just shook his head and made noises of disapproval as he said, "So be it, boy. I'll be sure to take my time to kill you, to ensure you feel pain." With that, he whipped out his wand once more.

Marcus, once again unable to speak, looked at the man in horror as he continued, "See, I'm going to experiment on you. See if my suspicions are right."

With that, he pointed his wand at Marcus and said, "Reducto!"

Marcus watched as the red light from before simply bounced off his skin.

"I knew it," said The Dark Prince. "You are your mother's son. An unnatural freak. Well, naturally, I came prepared."

With that, he took out a fang and said, "Do you know what this is?"

When Marcus shook his head once more, he explained, "This is a fang from a lion. A particulary ferocious one, now that I recall."

Out of nowhere, he shouted, "Diffindo!" and shredded the boy's shirt to reveal his torso.

"Now, let's see if this works," he said with glee in his voice as he took the tip of the fang and made a great slash across his chest.

Marcus wanted to scream so badly, express his pain, but found himself still unable to speak.

"Oh, so it is true," said The Dark Prince with a smirk. "You and your mother are indeed weak to one physical thing. Oh, I'm going to have so much fun with this."

He then shouted, "CRUCIO!"

He felt unimaginable body throughout his body. He couldn't move, he couldn't scream. He just wanted this pain to stop.

The man named The Dark Prince continued to make new marks, each mark followed up with the spell that caused him great pain. Eventually, Marcus's front torso was covered in slashes, his head looking down at the ground below him, wanting so much to wake up from this nightmare.

The man took a step back and said with a wicked grin, "Ah, there we are, boy. What do you think?

Marcus looked down and noticed that the scars formed the shape of a crown followed by an X."

"It's my Mark," said the man. "This particular mark means I've got you marked for murder."

He then leaned towards the boy and said, "You don't realize what you truly have until it's taken away from you, you know? No, of course you don't know. Well, perhaps a little now."

Marcus looked over to Orielle, his late babysitter and he was overcome with anger and tried as hard as he could to break free of his invisible bonds.

"Yes, that's it," said The Dark Prince as he brought his head back. "Come at me! Come at me with your hate, boy! It'll do you a lot more good than love ever will."

He, once again, got closer to Marcus and said, "Love is for the weak. Love is for fools who put their feelings ahead of logic and power. If you want to beat me, boy, you'd better bring your hate and ferocity."

Then, out of nowhere, Marcus heard his mother cry out, "MARCUS!"

There his mom and dad stood, thirty feet away, looking in horror of the state of their son because of an old foe.

"Ah, ah, ah, Williams!" the Dark Prince said to Michael as he took the lion fang up to Marcus's throat. "Take one wrong step and your precious son will feel the fang in the side of his neck, and I can only guess what kind of pain that'll bring."

As neither parent could do nothing, Marcus could sense the Dark Prince smirking as he said, "Now, Michael Williams, let's see how death suits you!"

Before he could raise his wand to do the deed, Marcus, overwhelmed with anger, yelled, "Leave my mommy and daddy ALONE!"

With that, Marcus shattered the invisible bonds The Dark Prince had on him. Before The Dark Prince knew it, he was on the ground, looking at his mortal enemy.

"What is this?!" he yelled as he saw the boy's face show nothing but rage, his eyes now showing that familiar golden color, the red hair slowly turning to pure white. Suddenly, in that moment, the Dark Prince had found what he'd been looking for.

"YOU!" yelled the Dark Prince as he pointed his wand at the young boy.

"Stop right there, ya filthy Death Eater!" yelled a familiar voice as The Dark Prince's wand was blasted from his hands.

The Dark Prince looked behind him and saw Alastor Moody as well as five other Aurors on top of Michael and Brynn Williams pointing their wands in front of him.

Currently unarmed and not in a position to duel, Rigel said to Moody, "I figured it would only be a matter of time before you caught up to me, Mad-Eye. I congratulate you." He turned to Marcus, who was still fuming, and said, "I'll be back, young Mr. Williams. When the time is right, I will revive the Dark Lord, carry out my plans, and take you down!"

With nothing more to say, the British Aurors took The Dark Prince away while Moody looked towards Michael and said, "I'll be back later to ask a few questions."

When the British Aurors were gone with The Dark Prince, Marcus suddenly fell to the ground, exhausted.

"Merlin's Beard, look at his hair," Michael said to his wife.

Brynn looked and noticed something truly shocking: What was once beautiful red hair was now dazzling, pure white hair, whiter than snow falling from the sky.

"It's just like the prophecy says," Brynn hoarsed.

"What are we going to do?" asked Michael.

"We should perform a memory charm on him, just in case," said Brynn.

"There won't be a need for that," Michael said. "Today will be too traumatic for him to remember properly. He'll only be able to remember bits and pieces, at best. However, we need to take him to a hospital right away. And come up with an explanation for his sudden change in hair color."

With that, the two of them disapparated to the nearest magic hospital.

**And that concludes the prologue to HP: Path Of The Stone! I'm really excited for this series to finally get underway, and I've pretty much got the general outline planned out, so hopefully writer's block doesn't affect me too much. Thank you so much for reading this and I hope you look forward to reading more!**


	2. Destined Meetings

**So, here's how this book is going to work.**

**I'll be posting this all at one time. That way, there'll be no suspense for the next chapter of this book. Now, granted, this won't be the way I'll be uploading the future books in this series. I'm only doing it this way because I've already completed all the chapters. After this book, all chapters will be uploaded one chapter at a time. Oh, and thank you for taking the time and reading this. It means so much to me. Oh, and before I forget...**

**Disclaimer: I'm not the owner of Harry Potter, just the OC characters.**

**Now let's get started!**

Chapter 1: Destined Meetings

Marcus Williams awoke with a start, having that same nightmare as before. He really couldn't make heads or tails of it, though needless to say that he tried.

Ever since that day, he wasn't the same. He tried so hard to make friends, to regain his old self, but just couldn't trust people. No matter what, eventually, they did something that would isolate him from everyone else, belittle him, or call him names that felt like someone was slicing him open. Eventually, Marcus Williams kept to himself and closed himself off as much as he could. He didn't interact with anyone other than his parents and a few select others and he didn't make himself emotionally vunerable.

And then there was his hair.

His chin-length spiky, yet wavy pure white hair was nothing short of a spectacle for Muggles that gawked and gaped at it, something that completely unnerved him. Of course, he did everything possible to get his hair a different color: went to a salon, dyed it himself, had his parents use magic to regain his hair color from before. Absolutely nothing worked, and therefore had to endure every old age joke there was to make from Muggles, something that further deteriorated his social confidence.

Naturally, Michael and Brynn did everything they could to have their son open up to people again. They had him take every kind of class and lesson imaginable and, while he was good at all of them, it didn't do anything to open himself up, or even smile.

Yes, that was what his mother missed the most: His smile. It was as if he had forgotten to smile altogether and, even if something good were to happen, all he would allow himself to do was smirk.

Well, today would prove whether or not he would smile for something Marcus has wanted for a long time.

"Well, we're already running behind, so we've got to get moving," Michael said. He turned to the stairs and said, "Son, get up!"

"I'm coming right down, Dad!" yelled Marcus, who hurried up and threw on his favorite sweatshirt and jeans and hurried downstairs to the living room, where his parents were waiting for him.

"It's finally time," said his mom. "Are you excited?"

Marcus gave a smirk and said, "Yeah, I'm pretty excited. After all, all eleven year olds get their first wand."

He truly was excited about today, July 9th, 1991. Today, he turned eleven years old. The only thing he wanted for his birthday was to get his own wand and school supplies and his mom and dad made sure to get today off.

"Then, let's hurry up and get going to Merlin's Village already," said his father with a smile.

Making sure to grab onto his sleeve, Michael Williams apparated his family to Merlin's Village.

"Fantastic," said Brynn. "I'll never get used to how amazing Merlin's Village really is."

It really was a sight for both newcomers and frequent visitors. Unlike it's outside surroundings, Merlin's Village looked like it stayed in the past, with it's straw-roof houses and medieval decor. There was even a castle that overlooked the village, which in fact was the local bar, "The Dragon's Maw."

"I wonder what type of wand I'll get," said Marcus. "Do you think I'll get dragon heartstring like you, Dad?"

"Who knows?" he said. "Like Ollivander told me when I got my wand, 'The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Williams'."

"Well, here we are!" Brynn said.

Marcus opened the door to Mr. Fredrick's, the best wand store in the entire U.S., right there in Merlin's Village, and immediately, the shop owner said, "Well, it's about time you entered my store, young Mr. Williams!"

Marcus gave a smirk as he said, "Hello, Mr. Fredricks! I assume you know why I'm here?"

"Of course I do!" said Mr. Fredricks, who gestured to the counter, where five wand boxes were already opened, waiting for Marcus.

Marcus, not wanting to waste any time, went to the leftmost wand and asked, "What's the combo on this one?"

"Oak and unicorn hair, 10 inches, sturdy," said Mr. Fredricks proudly. "And a fine unicorn it was, too! Gave me a run for my money, it did. Go on, Marcus! Pick it up with your writing hand!"

So, Marcus picked the wand up with his left hand and, as soon as he gripped the base of the wand, it shot out of his hand and closed itself in the box.

"What just happened?" asked Marcus, who looked to his parents for an answer.

"I wouldn't let it bother you, Marcus," said Michael. "Many witches and wizards don't get their wands on the first try."

"That's right!" said Mr. Fredricks. "As my mentor always told me, 'The wand chooses the wizard.' Now, let's try this one: Birch and dragon heartstring, a little stubborn, but loyal, 11 inches."

As Marcus grabbed the wand, the same thing happened as it did with the first one.

"Okay, this is getting wierd," said Marcus.

"Perhaps that wasn't the right combo," mumbled Mr. Fredricks. "Well, how about this: Hawthorn and a phoenix feather. 12 inches, nice and flexible."

When the same thing happened to this wand, Marcus was starting to get a little depressed.

"Oh, don't look so down!" said Brynn. "You'll definitely get a wand, I'm sure of it."

All of a sudden, the four people in the room heard a thud behind the counter and Mr. Fredricks looked to find a wand box had fallen off the shelf.

"Must've not placed it firmly," said Mr. Fredricks as he went to look in the box. When he did, however, his eyes grew wide and he hoarsed, "There's no way."

He took a glance at Marcus, who gave him a confused look and said, "Is there something the matter?"

Mr. Fredricks rushed back to the counter with the wand box in his hand and said, "Try this wand."

"What about the other two wands you've placed here?" asked Marcus, gesturing to the counter top.

"Never mind those wands," said Mr. Fredericks in a hurry. He took the cover off the box and Marcus looked inside to find a dark red wand of twelve inches, the wood looking as if two separate pieces were spirling to the tip like a vine, yet it was very distinctly one piece of wood.

"Well, the wand almost matches my mother's hair color," remarked Marcus.

"Please, young Mr. Williams!" exclaimed Mr. Fredricks.

"Right, right, sorry," said Marcus as he grabbed the wand with his left hand.

The moment he grabbed the wand, he felt a great warmth course through his body. He pointed the wand straight to the ceiling and great sparks shot out from it.

"I'd never thought I'd see the day," said Mr. Fredricks in a hoarse whisper.

"It feels good to finally have my own wand!" said Marcus with a smirk. "What's the combo?"

"Um, I'd rather not say," said Mr. Fredricks, who was in awe of Marcus. "But, know that I will be expecting great things from you, young man."

As they paid Mr. Fredricks and walked out the store, Marcus asked, "Is it wierd for a wandmaker to not describe a wand?"

"It's certainly very peculiar," said Michael. "But, at least you got your wand now, Marcus."

"That's true, I did," he said.

As he was inspecting his wand, Brynn whispered to Michael, "I thought for sure he would do it this time."

"Do what, darling?" asked Michael.

"Smile," she answered. "He hasn't truly smiled in six years to the day. All he ever does is smirk. I thought for sure that he would smile when he got his own wand."

"He will smile when he's ready to, darling," Michael stated.

"Michael, Brynn, there you are!" said a voice from behind them.

All three of them turned around to find Mr. Charles Jackson, American Minister of Magic and Michael's Boss.

"Mr. Jackson, what are you doing here?" asked Michael.

"I came looking for you two, truth be told," said Mr. Jackson. "Ah, young Marcus! I didn't see you there!"

"Hello, Mr. Jackson," said Marcus, who looked indifferent about seeing him.

"Actually, something urgent has come up at the Ministry," said Mr. Jackson.

"If it's about that wannabe dark magic group, that can wait," said Michael sternly. "I'm spending the day with my family."

"I'm afraid it's not that," said Mr. Jackson, who looked a little worried. "It's the British Minister of Magic. He's currently waiting in my office, wanting to speak to you and your wife. He says that it's very urgent."

"The British Minister of Magic?" said Michael, who was caught off guard by his boss's announcement. "Damn. What could he possibly want with me and Brynn?"

"Dad, is everything okay?" asked Marcus.

"We're going to the Ministry," said Michael. "I don't want any arguing, just grab my left sleeve."

Marcus, knowing better than to anger his father, grabbed his sleeve as him, Brynn, Mr. Jackson, and Michael apparated to the Ministry.

Once they arrived in Mr. Jackson's office, however, Marcus just knew something didn't feel right.

He was looking at a short old man with a suit and bowler hat standing by the window, talking to a tall man with long, blonde hair, wearing a black suit holding a cane with a snake at the end that Marcus believed to be his wand.

The short man looked towards the door and said, "Ah, hello again, Michael and Brynn! I'm very glad to see the both of you!"

"It's nice to see you too, Minister," said Michael, but Marcus could tell his father didn't honestly think that way.

"And this must be your son, Marcus!" said the Minister. "My word, he's a spitting image of you, Brynn, but I can see Michael's traits in you, Marcus. You've certainly gotten the best of both worlds, I must say."

"Thank you, Minister," said Marcus, who didn't really care what he thought.

"Fudge, don't you think we should get down to business?" said the man with the long, blonde hair. "I'm sure Michael wants to spend the rest of the day with his family."

"Why don't you keep that forked tongue in your mouth where it belongs, Lucius Malfoy?" asked Michael, who was getting irate with his mere presence.

"Please, men, settle down," Fudge implored, clearly wanting to get whatever business he had over with. "Now, to business. We have a bit of a situation over in the British Ministry of Magic, you see. Alastor Moody is retiring from his position."

"Mad-Eye's retiring?" asked Brynn.

"He was quite adamant on the matter, I dare say," Fudge stated. "Anywho, it leaves us in a quandry, considering he was the head of the Auror department."

"Go on," Michael said, wondering where this was going to lead.

"So, we were wondering if you were willing to take the position as Head of the British Auror department," Fudge announced.

Marcus, merely listening up to that point, realized what Mr. Fudge was asking of his father and said, "You have got to be kidding me!"

Everyone looked at Marcus while Michael said, "Not now, son!"

He then looked at Fudge and said, "You're really asking the wrong man, Fudge. Why don't you try Scrimgeour? I heard he's really pining for the job."

"He did show a lot of interest," admitted Fudge. "But, I'm afraid he's not as well rounded and talented as you are."

"How do you figure?" asked Michael.

"Well, let's look at your work so far, shall we?" asked Lucius as he took out a parchment from his robes and started reading it off. "Ah, here we go. In your time as Head of the US Auror Department, you've trained more than 50 top-notch Aurors, solved 10 high-profile cases that no one else could solve, never lost a duel against a dark witch or wizard, and reduced American wizarding crimes by 85%. This and your history in the First Wizarding War makes you a prime candidate for the Head Auror job."

"And let's not forget your contributions, Brynn!" exclaimed Fudge. "I've heard that American wizarding criminals call you 'The Red Siren'."

"Greatly exaggerated, Minister," said Brynn, who was uncomfortable with that title.

"So, what say you, Mr. Williams?" asked Lucius. "Will you take the Head Auror position? And Brynn, will you become a British Auror?"

"No," said Michael immediately.

"What?" said Fudge exasperatedly. "Why not?!"

"Marcus is attending Salem Academy in the fall," said Michael, who proceeded to stand next to Marcus and put his arm around his shoulder. "I cannot put that on him."

"Ah, well, I do have a proposition for young Marcus," said Lucius.

"For me?" asked Marcus, feeling very skeptic about anything this man had to say.

"Yes," said Lucius, smiling. "Of course, Salem Academy is a very prestigious school. However, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has produced more excellent witches and wizards than any magic school in the world. You do want to be an excellent wizard, don't you?"

"I can achieve that anywhere I go," stated Marcus.

"You can," Lucius stated, "But, the truly powerful have come through Hogwarts. Merlin, for example."

"Merlin?" asked Marcus, his interest slightly increasing.

"Oh, yes," said Lucius, now smiling. "The founders, your parents, even the Dark Lord and Dark Prince went to Hogwarts."

"Did they now?" Marcus asked, his blood beginning to boil.

"If you want to be just as powerful, you would choose wisely and go to Hogwarts."

"That's enough, Lucius!" exclaimed Michael.

"Dad, is it true?" asked Marcus.

"Well, Hogwarts does have a reputation for good education," Michael admitted.

"You want to go there, don't you?" Brynn asked her son.

Marcus was silent for a minute before replying, "Well, as much as I don't want to move from America, both of you always go on about how amazing Hogwarts is. So, I think I should put this school's reputation to the test."

Michael, feeling defeat, said, "How soon would we need to move, Fudge?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Williams, you mean you'll take the positions?" asked Fudge excitedly.

After they nodded their heads, Lucius gave a smirk and said, "As a governor of Hogwarts, I'll be sure to streamline the necessary paperwork to ensure Marcus's transfer goes smoothly."

"You'll be starting out next week," said Fudge quickly. "You'll have a press conference announcing your acceptance as Head of the Department, and afterwards get started!"

"In that case, my family needs to start packing," said Michael. "Brynn, Marcus, let's go."

With that, they left the room and went straight home.

* * *

**July 20th, 1991**

"Marcus, please come out of your room," Brynn said to him. "There's something here to see you."

Marcus, who previously holed himself in his new room, opened the door and said, "There's someone to see me?"

His mother nodded his head and brought him down to their unfurnished living room, where a familiar face greeted him.

"Uncle Remus, is that you?" Marcus asked.

"Yes, it is," said Remus with a smile as he hugged Marcus and continued, "I've just heard about you and your parents moving back to England, so I thought I'd stop by and catch up."

"Oh, well, not too much to catch up, really," said Marcus. "I did get my wand, though. Do you want to see it?"

"Well, of course," said Remus.

While Marcus went to grab his wand, Remus looked to Brynn and Michael, who just emerged from the kitchen, and asked, "Does Marcus still -"

"-not smile?" finished Brynn. "It seems that way."

"Well, naturally, we tried everything to get him to smile, but nothing seems to work," said Michael.

"Well, perhaps going to Hogwarts will remedy that," Remus said to them.

"I sure hope so," Brynn said. "He used to be such an energetic boy, full of joy and laughter. Now, there are some days where you can't even get him to speak."

"Something that tragic should've never happened to him," said Michael. "If only we had been there, or taken him into town with us."

"You can't change the past, Michael," Remus told him. "Otherwise, James and Lily would still be with us today, as well as Sirius being a free man. Does he ask about his hair?"

"At least once a week," Brynn said. "I can't say I blame him, though. But, it's not like like we can tell him it's because of that prophecy. He's just not old enough to -"

At that point, they heard Marcus coming back down from upstairs and silenced themselves as Marcus said, "Sorry about that, Uncle Remus. Can't believe it took me forever to find my wand."

"That's quite all right, Marcus," said Remus with a smile.

"So, here it is," said Marcus, holding up his red wand. "What do you think?"

Remus examined the wand in his hands and said, "This is a very peculiar wand, Marcus. Did Mr. Fredricks mentioned what the wand was made of?"

"Not at all," stated Marcus. "So, I did a little research. I'm able to determine that the wood is American Redwood, but I don't have a clue about what the wand core could possibly be."

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out, Marcus," Remus said as he handed Marcus's wand back to him.

They spent the remainder of the evening unpacking, Remus helping out with whatever he could do.

"Well, I'm sorry to say that I've got to get going," Remus said. "I have to start bright and early for my job search, but I'll be sure to drop by again when I can."

"Please do, Remus," said Michael. "The door's always open for you."

"Now, Marcus," Remus said to him, "I know you're unsure about Hogwarts, but I assure you, you're going to love it there."

"Well, I'll just have to go find out for myself, won't I?" Marcus asked, his face neither happy or sad.

Remus, who wished there was more he could do, said, "Have a good night now!"

With that, he left the house.

* * *

**July 30th, 1991**

"Well, that's the last box," said Brynn as they just finished unpacking.

They officially moved to the countryside, just outside the town of Cambridge, putting the finishing touches on their new home.

"Now, when are we going to go shopping for my school supplies?" Marcus asked.

"Hopefully soon," said his mother. "Your father hasn't been able to break away from the office long enough to go shopping. Neither have I, unfortunately. They're working us like crazy."

Sure enough, they heard the door open and Marcus saw his father before he said, "Well, things are a little rough around the edges with the department, but it's nothing that can't be fixed."

"And, to think, they're looking to us to shape up the department," said Brynn. "It's going to take all of us."

At that moment, all three of them heard knocking at the door.

"What the heck?" asked Marcus, who went to the door. As soon as he got in front of the door, he asked, "Who is it?"

"An old friend," replied an old and familiar voice to Michael and Brynn.

"Open the door," Brynn said to Marcus.

Once he did, he found a wizard whose white beard was as long as the white hair on top of his head, and Marcus could immediately tell that this man was a powerful wizard.

"Ah, Marcus, you've grown immensly since the last time I saw you," said the old man with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face.

When Michael saw the confused look on his son's face, he said, "Marcus, this is Professor Dumbledore. He's the headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Oh, so you're the guy my mom and dad won't stop talking about," said Marcus, who stuck out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Dumbledore returned the gesture and said, "The pleasure is all mine, Marcus."

"Why don't we all have a seat in the living room?" asked Brynn. "We just set up the furniture."

Once they did all this, Dumbledore looked to Michael and Brynn and said, "It is very nice to see the both of you again. I'm sure Remus is delighted to know that two of his best friends have returned to Great Britain."

"We've talked to him and he said he'll be able to come out again sometime this weekend," said Brynn. "But, I don't think you came out here just for small talk, Dumbledore."

"Straight to the point, then," he said with a smile. He took an envelope from his robes and handed it to Marcus.

"You'll find your list of school supplies in here," said Dumbledore. "First years are not allowed their own broomsticks and be sure to wear the school uniform before the train arrives at the Hogwarts Platform."

"Understood, Professor," said Marcus.

"And also, I need to ask you a favor, Marcus," stated Marcus. "A certain soon-to-be student hasn't been getting his acceptance letter and I've asked the gamekeeper of Hogwarts to ensure that this letter gets to him. I was wondering if you would be willing to tag along with him."

"Why me?" asked Marcus.

"This boy has no knowledge of the Wizarding World or even that he's a wizard," stated the headmaster. "It would be good for him if there was a boy his age that was able to fill him in."

"Who is it?" asked Michael.

"Harry," he simply stated to Marcus's parents.

"Oh, Harry Potter!" exclaimed Michael. "James's son!"

"It certainly sounds interesting," Marcus stated. "All right, I guess I'll go. When would I leave?"

"Oh, right away, I dare say," said Dumbledore. "In fact, the gamekeeper is waiting just outside."

Marcus hurried outside where he faced the biggest man he had ever seen in his life, which was remarkable considering he'd seen a lot of big guys at that point.

Once Dumbledore came outside, he said, "Marcus, this is Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Hagrid, this is Marcus Williams."

Hagrid stuck out one of his big, meaty hands and said, "Hello, Marcus! A pleasure to meet yeh!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Hagrid," said Marcus, who felt that his right arm was still shaking long after he was done shaking Hagrid's hand.

Hagrid noticed Michael and Brynn walking out of the house and said, "Merlin's Beard! Michael and Brynn! It's been far too lon'!"

As he almost crushed Michael and Brynn in his hug, Michael replied, "It's great to see you too, Hagrid! Now, can you let us down and breathe?"

"Right, right, sorry about that," said Hagrid.

Hagrid walked right next to an impressive motorcycle, sat on it, and said, "All righ' there, Marcus. Ready ter go?"

"I'm not so sure," said Marcus, who gave Dumbledore a skeptic look.

Knowing Marcus's doubts, Dumbledore said, "I trust Hagrid with my life."

Marcus took a look at the motorcycle and the giant man on it, who was giving him a hearty smile. After a few seconds, Marcus said, "Well, should be interesting," hopped into the side car of the motorcycle and they took off towards the skies.

Once they were in the air, Marcus said, "So, how are we able to fly without having to worry about Muggles seeing us?"

"There's sum clever enchantments on it," Hagrid explained. "Dumbledore put them on himself."

"And where exactly are we going?" asked Marcus as he noticed they were going closer to the ocean.

"Well, this Muggle family that Harry lives with, they've retreated to this hut on the rocks out in the middle of the sea," Hagrid stated. "We'll be going there."

They seemed to have been flying for hours on end, and by this point, Marcus was unsure if they were going to ever get to their destination.

It was very dark before Hagrid shout out, "There we are, Marcus! Jus' over that way!"

As he pointed to a dinky little rock with a house on it, Marcus wondered to himself, _"Just what drove this Muggle family to come out here with Harry?"_

Finally, they arrived to the rock and made their way to the front door.

"Well, it's a minute away from midnight," said Marcus, looking at his watch. "Do you think we should knock?"

"Nah," said Hagrid. "Best if we jus' get this over with."

Marcus was about to say something when Hagrid punched the door.

"Hagrid, surely, we can knock!" exclaimed Marcus.

"Not worth botherin'," stated Hagrid. "These Muggles wouldn't answer."

As he punched the door again, Marcus said, "Hagrid, we really should knock!"

Hagrid, ignoring him, gave the door one last punch, which fell flat on the shack floor.

"Or we could just bust down the front door," said Marcus, facepalming himself.

With that, Hagrid and Marcus made their way in the shabby hut.

**Thank you so much for reading! Next chapter should be up soon!**


	3. Meeting Harry Potter

**As the relentless posting of chapters are posted, I would like to once again thank you for reading this story! The fact that you've taken the time to read this when you didn't have to means a lot to me! And, once again..**

**Disclaimer: I only own OC characters, not the whole series**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 2: Meeting Harry Potter

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands - now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you - I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then -

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

Harry then noticed a boy about his age with the giant. He was just a little bit taller than Harry, with pure white hair and ocean-blue eyes, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans and looking not at all comfortable with the fact that the door crashed to the floor.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

They strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Get up, you overbloated boy," said the white-headed stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.

Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yet dad, but yeh've got yet mom's eyes."

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

I demand that you both leave at once!" he said. "You two are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, you great prune," said the white-headed stranger; the giant reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway - Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here - I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

"Wait a minute, it's his birthday?!" said the boy to the giant.

"What, no one told you?" the giant asked back.

"No," said the boy, looking not at all pleased that he was in the dark about his birthday. "Wish someone would've filled me in on that sooner."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing.

Harry looked up at the giant and then to the boy. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you two?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, we haven't introduced ourselves. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm.

"Marcus Williams," said the boy rather quickly.

"What about that tea then, eh?" Hagrid said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

"From the look of things, you'll be lucky if you can get your hands on tea," said Marcus, who looked around the area in disapproval.

Their eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and they snorted in unison. The giant bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant and boy sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under the giant's weight, and the giant began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The boy laughed darkly at the remark.

"Your son couldn't possibly get any fatter than he already is, you great Muggle."

Hagrid passed the sausages to Marcus and Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the giant and the boy. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you two are."

The giant and the boy took a gulp of their tea and wiped theirs mouths with the back of their hands.

"Call me Hagrid," the giant said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts - yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.

"Er - no," said Harry.

Hagrid and Marcus looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly.

"Sorry?" barked Marcus, who stood up from the couch, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them who should be sorry! Not telling you anything about Hogwarts!"

The giant groaned and said, "Fer crying out loud, I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid and Marcus thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!" the giant exclaimed.

The giant had leapt to his feet. Their anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," Hagrid growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy - this boy! - knows nothin' abou' - about ANYTHING?"

Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't bad.

"I know some things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff." But Marcus simply waved his hand and said, "He's talking about our world, Harry! Your world. My world. Your parents' world."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode and Marcus looked like he wanted to break something.

"DURSLEY!" Hagrid boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry while Marcus kept his eyes on his aunt and uncle.

"But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," the giant said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My - my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"What the crap, you don't know about your own parents?!" said the boy, bewildered and looking at Harry.

"Yeh mean, yeh don' know what yeh are?" the giant said to Harry.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, both of you! I forbid either of you to tell the boy anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious looks Hagrid and Marcus now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" said Harry eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil your heads, the both of you" said Marcus. He turned to Harry and said, "Harry - you are a wizard."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"- a what?" gasped Harry.

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope from Marcus, addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. He pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes he stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl - a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl - a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Harry his letter.

Taking him and Marcus to buy their things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

"Wait a minute, you had an owl in your coat?!" Marcus asked exasperately.

"It's pretty convienient and it don't mind any," said Hagrid, shruggin his shoulders.

Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"He's not going," he said.

Hagrid and Marcus grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," Hagrid said.

"A what?" said Harry, interested.

"A Muggle," said Marcus, "it's what we call Non-Magic folk like them. And I reckon it was horrible luck that you grew up in a family of the biggest, most repulsive Muggles I have every seen in my life."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"

"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a - a wizard?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was - a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as - as - abnormal - and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!" "But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid and Marcus's faces. They looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," Hagrid said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh - but someone's gotta - yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

They threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh - mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it..."

Hagrid sat down while Marcus leaned on the back of the couch, staring into the fire for a few seconds, and then Hagrid said, "It begins, I suppose, with - with a person called - but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows -"

"Who? "

"Well - I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah -can't spell it."

"His name was Voldemort, Harry," said Marcus, who looked as if he wanted to get this over with. Hagrid shuddered. "Don' go saying it again, Marcus. Anyway, this - this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too - some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him - an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' - an' -"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad - knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find - anyway..."

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then - an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing - he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh - took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even - but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age - the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts - an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

Something very painful was going on in Harry's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before - and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid and Marcus, unable to say anything during Hagrid's telling of the story, was watching him sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and Marcus and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured - and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion - asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types - just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end -"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat, with Marcus standing next to him, knuckles white and ready to strike. Hagrid pointing this umbrella at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you - one more word... "

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"Well, that's better," said Marcus, the two of them breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry - I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"That's a good question, Harry," said Marcus. "He just up and disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried to kill you, from what I've been told. Makes you even more famous in that regard. But, that's the biggest mystery, right there... he was getting more and more powerful - so why'd he go?"

"Some say he died," Hagrid stated. "Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back."

"Most of our kind think he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. Because something about you finished him, Harry. There was something going on that night that he hadn't counted on - I dunno what it was, no one does - but something about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes while Marcus was looking at him with interest, like he was studying him, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? How could he possibly be? He'd spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

"Hagrid, Marcus," he said quietly, "I think you two must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

To his surprise, the both of them chuckled.

"Not a wizard, eh?" said Hagrid, looking at Marcus, who looked to Harry and said, "You're telling me you never made things happen when you were scared or angry?"

Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it... every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry... chased by Dudley's gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach... dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he'd managed to make it grow back... and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn't he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn't he set a boa constrictor on him?

Harry looked back at Hagrid and Marcus, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him while Marcus gave a smirk.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard - you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish - spell books and wands and -"

"If he wants to go, a great Muggle like you will not be stopping him," growled Marcus. "Stop Lily and James Potter's son going to Hogwarts! You're absolutely mad. I can guarantee you his name's been down on the school's list ever since he was born. He's off to the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Give him seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with boys and girls my age, thank goodness, and we'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled-"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER," he thundered, "- INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDORE- IN- FRONT- OF- ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley - there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and Marcus and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid and Marcus looked at his umbrella and Hagrid started to stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast sideway looks at Harry and Marcus under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if the two of yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm - er - not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff - one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job."

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry and Marcus at the same time.

"Oh, well - I was at Hogwarts meself but I - er - got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore." "Why were you expelled?" asked Harry.

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that. Marcus's as well."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

Marcus gave the coat a wierd look and said, "On second thought, I'll just sleep with my sweatshirt on the couch."

And, with that, Harry saw Marcus put the hood on his sweatshirt over his head, went to the couch, and fell straight to sleep.

**I'm glad I'm getting the chance to do this now, because now I just can't seem to stop! Lol anyway, next chapter should be up and thank you so much for reading this!**


	4. Shopping for School

**As we get going on another chapter, the following must be said:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own a single thing of Harry Potter, except for the OC's, of course.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 3: Shopping for School

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.

"It was a dream, he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid and a boy named Marcus came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard."

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

"And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door," Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."

He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, Marcus stirring on the floor, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that."

Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

"Hagrid! Marcus!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl!"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets." Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets - bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags... finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?"

"They're the little bronze coins you're holding, Harry," said Marcus, who Harry didn't hear waking up and walking towards him.

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be Off, Harry, Marcus, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy both of yer supplies fer school."

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had just thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.

"Um - Hagrid? Marcus?"

"Mm?" said the both of them, Hagrid pulling on his huge boots while Marcus was adjusting his sweatshirt.

"I haven't got any money - and you both heard Uncle Vernon last night ... he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."

"Oh, don't worry about that," said Marcus, standing up and scratching his head. "Do you honestly think they didn't leave you anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed -"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy!" said Hagrid. "Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold - an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Wizards have banks?"

"Just the one, as far as I've been informed," said Marcus. "It's called Gringotts. Mostly ran by goblins."

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.

"Goblins?"

"Yeah - so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that," said Hagrid, waving a cold sausage at Harry. "Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe - 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you, gettin' things from Gringotts - knows he can trust me, see."

"Do you have everything, Harry?" asked Marcus. When Harry nodded his head, he said, "Come on, let's follow Hagrid."

So, Harry and Marcus followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"Hmm, not bad," said Marcus. "Scenery's all right."

"How did you two get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat. "Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew?"

"Yeah - but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter - er - speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Marcus and Harry, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

As they were making their way back to shore, Harry looked at Marcus and said, "Is Hogwarts really the best school in the world?"

"I honestly don't know," Marcus said. "My parents tell me it is. I'm not sure why I said all of that last night, but it can't be all that bad, anyway. I was living in the States until this summer. My Mom and Dad took jobs in England, so that's why I'm here and not there. I was all set to go to Salem Academy until that happened."

"You mean, there's more than one school?" asked Harry.

"Of course there are," said Marcus. "You don't expect every young witch and wizard in the world to learn under one establishment, do you?"

"I guess not," Harry said.

"Anyway, we'll just have to find out for ourselves and see if Hogwarts is all that it's cracked up to be," said Marcus. "First, however, we'll have to go to Gringotts."

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked, wanting to ask this question earlier.

"Spells - enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way - Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he'd never had so many questions in his life.

"Hagrid, can I see the paper?" asked Marcus, who gave him the paper immediately. After reading it for a while, Marcus said, "Well, no surprise there. Freakin' Ministry of Magic, messing up, just like dad said the other day."

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, O' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"

"Well, the Ministry's main job is to make sure that Muggles are unaware that witches and wizards still exist," said Marcus in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Why?"

"Why?" asked a shocked Hagrid. "Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersbys stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry and Marcus couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, boys? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd like one?" the two boys asked.

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid - here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid and Marcus, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as they called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letter, boys?" he asked as he counted stitches. Harry and Marcus took their parchment envelope out of their pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set

glass or crystal phials

telescope set

brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry and Marcus had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Harry hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid and Marcus had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn't help trusting them.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry and Marcus's shoulder and making their knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry and Marcus, "are they - can this be -?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter...Marcus Williams...what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and Marcus and seized their hands, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, Mr. Williams, welcome back."

Harry didn't know what to say and when he looked at Marcus, it was clear he didn't like or want the attention. Everyone was looking at them. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry and Marcus found themselves shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, boys, can't believe I'm meeting you two at last."

"So proud, boys, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hands - I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, Mr. Williams, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!" Harry and Marcus shook hands again and again - Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Marcus, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter, W-W-Williams," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you both."

As the professor was grasping Marcus's hand, Harry asked, "What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter, W-Williams?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry and Marcus to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on - lots ter buy. Come on, boys."

Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Harry.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh both - mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag - never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up... two across he muttered. "Right, stand back, boys."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a small hole appeared - it grew wider and wider - a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at Harry and Marcus's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry and Marcus looked quickly over their shoulders and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons - All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll both be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium - Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry and Marcus's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," they heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever -" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

"Like we mentioned before, you would be mad trying to steal from goblins," said Marcus to Harry.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid, Harry and Marcus made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe and Mr. Marcus Williams', as well."

"You have their keys, Sir?"

"Here's mine," said Marcus, who had to reach to put a golden key on the counter top. "Hagrid, do you have Harry's vault key?"

"Got it here somewhere," muttered Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"All seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to all three vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he, Marcus and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen, Hagrid?" Marcus asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in - Hagrid with some difficulty - and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late - - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All Harry's - it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London.

Hagrid and Marcus helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," Marcus explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough to know, hopefully."

"Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." Hagrid said to Harry. He turned to Griphook.

"Vault seven hundred, please."

They only had to ride a little bit until they were standing in front of Marcus's vault to which Marcus said, "Well, this should be interesting."

Griphook entered the key, twisted it, opened the door and Harry found himself looking at mountains of money, way more than he had in his own vault.

"Harry, can you help me with this?" asked Marcus.

"Oh, of course," Harry said as the two of them started to pile in Galleons.

"Is this money really all yours?" asked Harry.

"As far as I know," Marcus stated, who was neither grinning or expressing care over all of the money. "Inherited it from my late grandparents, who apparently were very fond of me when I was younger."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry said, not sure of what else to say.

"It's all right," said Marcus, who finished scooping the money into his sack. "I don't remember too much from my early childhood to recall them much."

He then turned to Hagrid and said, "All right, Hagrid, we're done here!"

Hagrid, after Harry and Marcus left Vault seven hundred, turned to Griphook and said, "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was sure, and he and Marcus were leaning forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least - but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

Marcus, however, seemed to speak his mind as he asked, "What was so important in that vault that a goblin has to use magic to open it?"

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid, ignoring Marcus's question.

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life - more money than even Dudley had ever had.

"Might as well get both yer uniforms," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, Marcus, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry and Marcus entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, Harry feeling a little assurance from Marcus.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dears?" she said, when Marcus started to speak. "Yes, ma'am. First years." "Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact. "

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him while Marcus was standing next to Harry) slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry and Marcus.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley while Marcus had a strong feeling he looked somehow familiar.

"Have you got your own brooms?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry while Marcus said, "Of course. Nimbus Two Thousand."

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be. Harry looked to Marcus, who immediately said, "Chaser. Do you play Quidditch?"

"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you two will be in yet?"

"No," said Marcus and Harry, who was feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they?" said the blonde boy. "But I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" "Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting. "Not necessarily," said Marcus, who started liking the boy less and less.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and Marcus and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Marcus, who gave him a death stare. Harry was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry and Marcus coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you two? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy. "Currently busy with work," said Marcus, who didn't feel like going in explanation.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. The blonde boy looked to Harry and said, "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What are your surnames, anyway?"

But before Harry and Marcus could answer, Madam Malkin said, "Both of you are done, my dears," and the two of them, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from their footstools.

"Well, I'll see you two at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

Harry and Marcus were rather quiet as they ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, he said, "Hagrid, Marcus, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know - not knowin' about Quidditch!" exclaimed Hagrid.

"Don't make me feel worse," said Harry. He and Marcus told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

"-and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in."

"That's a load of crap," growled Marcus. "It doesn't matter what kind of family a witch or wizard's from. If they have magic, they're just as entitled to learn about it as the rest of us."

"Yer not from a Muggle family," stated Hagrid in a matter-of-fact tone. "If he'd known who yeh were - he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line O' Muggles - look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what is Quidditch?"

"It's our main sport," explained Marcus. "Wizard sport. It's like - like soccer in the Muggle world - everyone follows Quidditch - played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls - well, I'll explain the rules at a different time. It takes a long time to explain."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?" asked Harry.

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but -" Hagrid started to say.

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff" said Harry gloomily.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"Vol-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

They bought Harry and Marcus's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid and Marcus almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid.

"And besides, we can't work any of those curses yet, we'll need a lot more study before we get to that level," Marcus told Harry, who noticed that Marcus didn't like himself hearing those words out of his mouth.

Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got two nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and collapsible brass telescopes. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry and Marcus, the two of them examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.

"Just yer wand left, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

"Oh, good idea!" Marcus said, "I have yet to get his birthday present, as well."

Harry felt himself go red.

"You two don't have to -"

"We know we don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. Marcus himself carried a grey owl which Marcus was rather fond of. Marcus made a quick stop at the book store and bought Harry a book explaining Quidditch. Harry couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand... this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry and Marcus jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er - yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now - Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er - well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -"

Harry tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Well, I guess I don't feel so bad now," said Marcus, who was watching the entire event from behind Harry. "Didn't take me nearly as long to get my wand."

"Tricky customer, eh?" said Ollivander. "Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped, Marcus merely smirked, and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed while Marcus listened intently.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander turned to Marcus and said, "And Mr. Williams, don't think I've forgotten about you. Now, which one is your wand arm?"

"Actually, Mr. Ollivander, I already have my wand," said Marcus.

"Oh?" said Ollivander. "How so?"

"I purchased mine from Mr. Fredricks," stated Marcus. "He runs the wand shop in Merlin's Village back in the U.S."

"Ah, so my old associate was responsible," said Ollivander. "Well, Mr. Williams, do get out your wand."

Harry saw Marcus take his wand out from a satchel pocket built just for his wand and noticed just how red his wand was.

Mr. Ollivander saw the wand, handled the wand with care as he gasped, "I can't believe it. He had this wand in his shop?"

"Mr. Fredricks didn't really explain this wand to me," Marcus stated. "I was hoping you would."

Mr. Ollivander immediately gave the wand back to Marcus and said, "I'm afraid not today, Mr. Williams. Perhaps when you're a bit older."

Unsatisfied with the answer, Marcus walked out the door with Hagrid and Harry as Mr. Ollivander bowed to them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry, Marcus and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with his snowy owl and Marcus's grey owl asleep in their cages on their respective laps. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought Harry and Marcus a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, Harry? You've been very quiet," said Marcus.

Harry wasn't sure he could explain. He'd just had the best birthday of his life - and yet - he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," he said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry - I mean, the night my parents died."

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts - I did - still do, 'smatter of fact."

"And besides, Harry," said Marcus, who had his arms folded across his chest, looking straight ahead, "Being famous doesn't change who you are. Like Hagrid said, just be yourself and let everything else work itself out."

Hagrid helped Harry and Marcus on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys and Marcus's parents, then handed them separate envelopes.

"Yer tickets fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September - King's Cross - it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me... See yeh soon, Harry, Marcus."

The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone.

**Thank you so much for reading! Next chapter should be up by the time you're done reading this!**


	5. Hogwarts Bound

**Finally getting to the meaty portion of the story! It's such a relief to get past that particular part of the story! Oh, and of course...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, just the OC's.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 4: Hogwarts Bound

"So, Marcus, how was spending time with Harry?" asked Brynn.

"It was really interesting, actually," said Marcus, who just returned home and dropped off all of his stuff in his room. "He was really clueless about the Wizarding World. I guess that's why Professor Dumbledore wanted me to tag along with Hagrid."

"I still say we should've raised Harry," said Michael, who was looking a little tired from his work. "He wouldn't have been so clueless if that would've happened."

"Wait, you guys had a chance to raise Harry?" asked Marcus, bamboozled by this knowledge. "So, how come you didn't?"

"It wasn't by choice," said Brynn. "It was stated in Harry's parent's will that we were to get full custody of Harry. But, Dumbledore had other plans for him. And, as much as I don't like it, it was for the best."

"And don't tell Harry this, either," said Michael with a stern face. "I'm sure it would upset him greatly if he knew he had an alternative living option before going to that Muggle family of his."

"I actually met them," stated Marcus, who crashed on the couch. "Worst Muggles I've ever met in my life."

"How so?" asked his father.

At that point, Marcus launched into his telling of the entire day with Harry and Hagrid.

"And then Hagrid just disappeared," Marcus said, finishing it off. "Which was pretty impressive, considering how huge the guy is."

"What did you think of Harry?" asked Brynn.

Marcus sighed before saying, "I trust him. He's gone through a lot, yet isn't bitter or negative or anything like that. A bit curious, but that's due to his lack of knowledge of the Wizarding World. And he's the first person outside of you guys who seems to accept me."

"Well, at least you have your supplies now," said Michael, who was a little sad at not being able to go with his son. "You should probably give those books a good read."

"Good idea," said Marcus, who went immediately to his room.

"I had no idea Harry was that much in the dark," Michael said to his wife.

"Well, all we can hope for is that Dumbledore knows what he's doing," said Brynn.

And, for the remainder of the month, Marcus didn't deviate from his room, except for bathroom breaks and mealtimes. For the young boy, September 1st came much too quickly as he found himself walking to King's Cross with his parents.

"So, looking at this ticket, it says to board the Hogwarts Express from Platform Nine and Three Quarters," said Marcus, who looked very much confused. "Do you have any idea what this ticket is talking about, Dad?"

"Well, obviously," said Michael, "Though it'll be better if you experience it yourself."

"Seriously?" asked Marcus, who was not satisfied with the answer.

"Say, Marcus, is that Harry over there?" asked Brynn, who pointed in front of Marcus.

Sure enough, Marcus looked to find Harry utterly confused.

"That's him, all right," confirmed Marcus. "It looks like I better go and try to help him as best as I can."

"Merlin's Beard, he's a spitting image of his father!" exclaimed Michael.

"He's got some really green eyes, though," stated Marcus.

"He has Lily's eyes?" asked Brynn. "Her eyes were always really pretty."

"We'll get to talk to him a different time, darling," said Michael. "We told Fudge we would only take the morning off to drop Marcus off at King's Cross."

"You're right, unfortunately," said Brynn. "Good-bye for now, my darling son. Be sure to write to us as much as you can."

"I will, Mom," said Marcus, who gave them both an awkward hug.

"Do your best, son," said Michael. "And be sure to help Harry out as much as possible."

"Oh, I definitely plan on doing that," said Marcus as he took a hold of his cart and made his way straight to Harry.

"All right, my darling," said Michael. "Time to get back to work."

With that, the two of them Apparated to the Ministry.

* * *

Harry's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything, or shout at him - in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while.

Harry kept to his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. His school books were very interesting. He lay on his bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn't come in to vacuum anymore, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before he went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first.

On the last day of August he thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.

"Er - Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er - I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to - to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"

Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," said Harry, realizing this for the first time. He pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket.

"I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," he read.

His aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"It's on my ticket."

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn't want to walk into the station in his wizard's robes - he'd change on the train. He checked his Hogwarts list yet again to make sure he had everything he needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. Two hours later, Harry's huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry, and they had set off.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine - platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. Harry's mouth went rather dry. What on earth was he going to do? He was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig. He'd have to ask someone.

All of a sudden, he heard a familar voice shouting, "Hey, Harry! Over here!"

Harry looked to find Marcus Williams, feeling relieved that he showed up when he did.

"Hello, Harry," said Marcus. "All ready to go to Hogwarts?"

He nodded his head, but said afterwards, "It's says on the ticket to board the Hogwarts Express on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, but I don't see it."

"Yeah, mom and dad wouldn't explain it to me, either," said Marcus, who looked at a clock that said Ten Forty. "Well, we're in the right place, seeing as we're at platforms nine and ten. Let's ask around."

They stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry and Marcus couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though they were being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Harry asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Harry was now trying hard not to panic while Marcus was reassuring him that everything was going to be fine. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, they had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and neither he or Marcus had any idea how to do it; they was stranded in the middle of a station with trunks Harry could hardly lift, pockets full of wizard money, and two large owls that stuck out like sore thumbs.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell them something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. Harry wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind them and they caught a few words of what they were saying.

"- packed with Muggles, of course -"

Harry and Marcus swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair, almost like Marcus's hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like theirs in front of him - and they had an owl.

"Did you see that?" Marcus asked quickly. When Harry nodded his head, Marcus said, "Quick, let's follow them!"

Hearts hammering, Harry and Marcus pushed their carts after them. They stopped and so did they, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go... "

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Harry and Marcus watched, careful not to blink in case they missed it - but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of them and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Are you freaking kidding me?!" asked Marcus exasperately, annoyed by such a nuisance.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone - but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there - and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse us," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dears," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes," said Marcus. "The thing is - well, the thing is, we don't know how to -"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and both of them nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er - okay," said Harry and Marcus at the same time.

"I'll follow behind you," Marcus said. "So, take a deep breath and hope for the best."

They pushed their trollies around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

Harry started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly and he heard Marcus picking up the pace. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble - leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run - the barrier was coming nearer and nearer - he wouldn't be able to stop - the cart was out of control - he was a foot away - he closed his eyes ready for the crash -

It didn't come... he kept on running... he opened his eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it, He had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

Harry saw Marcus coming up on his left side, saying, "That's all there was to that? Seriously, my mom and dad couldn't have mentioned that before they took off?"

Harry noticed that the first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry and Marcus pushed their carts off down the platform in search of an empty seats. They passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Harry and Marcus pressed on through the crowd until they found an empty compartment near the end of the train. They put Hedwig and Archie inside first and then started to shove and heave their trunks toward the train door. Harry tried to lift his up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' and Marcus's help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you -"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"Harry Potter, "chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."

The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red.

"Harry, we should really get to our seats," said Marcus.

The two boys then noticed them and one of them said, "Hey, wait a minute! White hair, ocean-blue eyes, accent sounds foreign. Hey, are you Marcus Williams by chance?!"

Harry noticed Marcus go stiff as he replied, "That's me, all right."

Before either of them could ask anything else, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom."

With a last look at Harry and Marcus, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry and Marcus sat down opposite from each other next to the window where, half hidden, they could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"Mom - geroff" He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves -"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once -"

"Or twice -"

"A minute -"

"All summer -"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term - send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two - this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've - you've blown up a toilet or -"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

"It's not funny. And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking.

"You know that black-haired boy and the white-haired boy with him who were near us in the station? Know who they are?"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter and Marcus Williams!"

Both of them heard the little girl's voice.

"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see them, Mom, please..."

"You've already seen them, Ginny, and they're not something you goggle at in a zoo. Are they really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked them. Saw the scar. It's really there - like lightning."

"And the other one's hair was whiter than snow! That boy even told us himself he was Marcus Williams!"

"Poor dear - no wonder the boy was alone, I wondered. It was good of that other boy to be with him. They were ever so polite when they asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

"Perhaps Marcus can tell us what the Dark Prince looks like," George said to Fred, eager looks in their eyes.

"George, don't you dare!"

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't cry, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mom."

The train began to move. Harry saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

Harry looked at Marcus, who had punched the side of the car, leaving a very good sized dent and had a look of anger on his face.

"Is something wrong, Marcus?" he asked.

Marcus noticed what he just did and quickly composed himself, saying, "Ah, it's nothing, Harry. Don't worry about it."

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry and next to Marcus. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry and Marcus shook their heads and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and Marcus and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked, geting a confused look from Marcus. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry, Marcus," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.

"Bye," said Harry, Marcus and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you two really Harry Potter and Marcus Williams?" Ron blurted out.

The two of them nodded.

"Oh -well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And, Harry, have you really got - you know..."

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who-"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly to Marcus and asked, "Is it really true, about the Dark Prince?"

"Yes, it's true," said Marcus.

"So, does that mean-"

"I don't remember much from that day," said Marcus quickly. Noticing that he sounded rude, Marcus quickly added, "I'm sorry about that. It's just that I get asked that all the time."

"That's all right," said Ron quickly, who didn't want to annoy him.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him and Marcus.

"Er - Yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already."

The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"Horrible," Marcus bluntly answered.

"Well, not all of them," Harry clarified. "My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," said Ron.

"You have five brothers?" asked Marcus, who was greatly interested.

"Yes," replied Ron, who for some reason was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left - Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff - I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

"Well, I bet they are some things you'll be able to accomplish that your brothers haven't," Marcus told him.

Ron's ears went pink at this. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Harry didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, he'd never had any money in his life until a month ago, and he told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up.

"... and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort-"

Ron gasped while Marcus simply rolled his eyes.

"What?" said Harry.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people -"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harry, I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn... I bet," he added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be," said Marcus.

"There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough," assured Ron.

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry and Marcus, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to their feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Harry and Marcus went out into the corridor.

He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry - but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he and Marcus got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron stared as Harry and Marcus brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Harry and Marcus, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," said Marcus, holding up a pasty. "Go on -"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty," said Marcus. Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share with, was feeling pretty nice, sitting there with Ron and Marcus, eating their way through all of their pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?" He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him.

"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know, being in the dark and all," said Marcus. "Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect - famous witches and wizards."

"I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy," stated Ron.

"Really?" asked Marcus. "I got too many of them, but I don't have Merlin or Circe. Come on, let's trade."

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half- moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Ptolemy - Thanks, Harry."

Harry turned over his card and read:

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her... do you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "Weird!"

Harry stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave him a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harry couldn't keep his eyes off them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. He finally tore his eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Marcus warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor - you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe."

"George reckons he had a booger- flavored one once," Ron told the two of them.

"Really?" asked Marcus, who looked disgusted. "That can't have tasted well."

Ron gave a chuckle and said, "He reckoned his taste buds weren't the same after that. Hmm, let's try this one."

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh - see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry and Marcus had passed on platform nine and threequarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have any of you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..."

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway-"

He had just raised his 'wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Marcus, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in Ron's hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er - all right."

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Harry looked at Marcus and Ron, and was relieved to see by Ron's stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either. Marcus, however, looked a little more confident about their course books.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Marcus Williams," stated Marcus.

"Are you two really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you two, of course - I got a few extra books. for background reading, and both of you are in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.

"We are?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell - George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Marcus.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles - someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry and Marcus stared.

"Really? What happened to them?" Harry asked.

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

"The event of that is very likely," said Marcus. "My father told me himself. He's actually leading the case."

Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You- Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.

"What's your Quidditch teams?" Ron asked.

"The U.S. All-Stars," said Marcus immediately.

"Er - I don't know any," Harry confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world -" And he and Marcus were off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games Ron had been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money while Marcus explained all the spectacular moves the U.S. Chasers pulled off in their match against Japan over the summer. They were just taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Harry and Marcus recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry and Marcus with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter and Marcus Williams are in this compartment. So it's you two, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry and Marcus at the same time. They was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where they was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, you're Malfoy's son!" exclaimed Marcus. "I wondered where I recoginzed that ugliness from. Tell me, are you able to do anything on your own, or do you have to have a sack of Galleons that you bribe people with to do your dirty work?"

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. "I'd watch what you say to me, gramps!" said Malfoy, which earned a death stare from Marcus before Draco turned his attention to Ron.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to Harry and Marcus. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter and Williams. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you," he said to the two of them slowly. "Unless you're a bit more polite you'll go the same way as your parents, Potter. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Harry, Marcus and Ron all stood up.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"That's right," said Marcus, who put his fists up, ready for an attack.

"Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him, Marcus or Ron.

"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron - Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell while Marcus punched Crabbe's face in.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle - Crabbe was trying to block Marcus's attacks (and failing miserably) and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once.

Harry and Ron looked at Marcus and Ron said, "Where in the world did you learn that?"

"What, fighting?" Marcus asked. "Took some Muggle martial art classes when I was younger. Got really good, too."

Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry and Marcus. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No - I don't believe it - he's gone back to sleep-"

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Harry and Marcus explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You all better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her.

"Actually, that's not true, I landed a punch in Crabbe's face," said Marcus in earnest, who earned a look of disapproval from Hermione. "Would you mind leaving while we change, please?"

"All right - I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left. Harry and Marcus peered out of the window. It was getting dark. They could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

Harry, Marcus and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles while Marcus look determined. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and they heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, boys?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Marcus and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville while they saw Hermione go in a different boat. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

**Thank you so much for reading! Next chapter should be up by the time you reach this point!**


	6. The Sorting Hat

**I would like to thank one Fanfic writer who inspired me to write and publish this story and eventually my series. You know who you are.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own a darn thing except for the OC's. Otherwise, I wouldn't have to have an actual job.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 5: The Sorting Hat

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -the rest of the school must already be here - but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair while Marcus was taking deep breaths.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron and Marcus.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

"He was obviously joking," said Marcus. "I don't think it'll be anything complex, but you never know."

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But he didn't know any magic yet - what on earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He'd never been more nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teacher's wig blue. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom.

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air - several people behind him screamed.

"What the -?"

He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance -"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind Marcus, with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing - noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry and Marcus. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

"Again, why couldn't my parents just tell me about putting a hat on my head?" asked Marcus to Harry and Ron. "Ugh, I hate not being informed."

Harry. smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather alot; Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause -

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot. He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. He had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last - "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that - no? Well, if you're sure - better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirtell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now there were only five people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry as he noticed Marcus was up next.

As Marcus watched the people get sorted one by one, he was trying to look anywhere but the students that were seated at the house tables. He could sense them trying to get a better look at him, and it was getting uncomfortable. Finally, Ron went up to the Sorting Hat, who had no trouble sorting him to Gryffindor. At last, the time came.

* * *

"Williams, Marcus!" shouted Professor McGonagall.

Marcus noticed the fervent whispers that went around the hall as he approached the Sorting Hat, just as it was when Harry's name was mentioned.

"I don't believe it!"

"The Marcus Williams?!"

"So, it is true!"

"Of course it is! Just look at his hair!"

Thankfully, the professor put the Sorting Hat on Marcus's head once he sat down on the stool as the hat started speaking.

"Ah, very interesting," said the Sorting Hat in a small voice. "Brave, smart, strong spirit, very clever. All good qualities. And your desire to better yourself and defeat your enemies! Very good! And a great destiny awaits you, as well. Slytherin would definitely be the best choice for you."

Marcus felt his blood boil as he said, "If you put me in that house, I'll rip you apart."

"Adamant about not being in Slytherin, eh?" said the Sorting Hat. "You don't know what you're missing out on, Williams."

"I don't care," said Marcus through gritted teeth.

"If you insist," said the Sorting Hat, "Then I'll just have to put you in GRYFFINDOR!"

Marcus felt a huge wave of relief as the Sorting Hat was lifted from his head, a smirk on his face as he walked over to the Gryffindor table, getting just as loud of a reception as Harry's.

* * *

Harry was quite glad that Marcus was sorted into Gryffindor as the whole table cheered loudly for Marcus as he took a seat next to Harry. As soon as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin, Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Harry and Marcus looked down at their empty gold plate. Harry had only just realized how hungry he was and Marcus could hear his stomach growl. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago to Harry.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he - a bit mad?" he asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if It made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

As Marcus starting piling up the different meats on his plate, Harry heard a moaning from behind him.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Can't you -?"

I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've in troduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you - you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy -" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So - new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable - he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harry and Marcus looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding - "

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all- Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me - he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned - but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced - all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here - they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad. What about you, Marcus?"

Marcus cleared his throat and said, "Well, there's not too much to talk about. My mother and father transferred to the British Ministry of Magic, in the Auror Department, my father taking the Head Position this summer. Before that, I lived in the U.S. I took a lot of Muggle classes before I turned eleven, but I'm really glad to finally start taking magic classes."

On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult-"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing - ").

Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes - and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N-nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look - a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to - everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at him again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy and Marcus.

"He certainly sounded serious, Harry," Marcus said.

"Must be," said Percy, agreeing with Marcus and frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere - the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves - show yourself."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it - Neville needed a leg up - and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase - they were obviously in one of the towers - they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

"Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry and Marcus through the hangings. "Get off, Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets."

Harry was going to ask Ron if he'd had any of the treacle tart, but he fell asleep almost at once.

"Well, I'm personally looking forward to tomorrow," said Marcus to Harry. "Good night, Harry."

With that, Harry saw Marcus closed the curtains to his bed.

* * *

That night, Marcus ended up seeing a great, big fortress out in the middle of a violent sea, and at the top sat the man who attempted to murder him all those years ago. His hair was slight messy and unwashed, his red eyes were very much alive, and he sat there as if he was on vacation.

Seeing this man in his dream was enough to make his blood boil, but then he opened his mouth.

"Ah, I sense now that he's attending Hogwarts," said the man, who was somehow unaffected by his current environment. "I see that particular servant has pulled through for me, all for my sake. It's very convenient when things start weaving together as nicely as they have. Keep me up to date, my loyal servant of the crown, and be ready for that day."

* * *

Marcus woke up in a hurry, heaving and panting. He noticed Harry just getting up.

"Good morning, Harry," said Marcus. "Come on, let's get going to class."

As soon as the both of them got dressed, they met Ron down in the common room and left, starting the day together.

**Thank you so much for reading! Next chapter should be up by now!**


	7. The Potions Master

**Disclaimer: marcwill90 wishes he owned Harry Potter, but has to contend owning the OC's.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter Six: The Potions Master

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

"Check it out, it's Marcus Williams."

"No doubts there."

"Look how cool his hair is."

"And those eyes!"

Whispers followed Harry and Marcus from the moment they left their dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at them, or doubled back to pass them in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes while he noticed Marcus was about as stiff as a board.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!" Marcus nearly got into a fight with him once, leaving Harry and Ron having to drag him away from Peeves, who was aggravating Marcus further by sticking his tongue out at him.

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry, Marcus and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight and when he called out Marcus's name he went immediately to him in excitement and asked him all about his parent's accomplishments.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger and Marcus had made any difference to their match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how theirs had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione and Marcus a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron and Marcus didn't have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for the three boys. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron, groaning.

"Snape's Head of Slytherin House," Marcus stated, not being excited for the class either. "They say he always favors them - we'll be able to see if it's true soon enough."

"Wish McGonagall favored us, " said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you and Marcus like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?

I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled Yes, please, see you later on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.

As soon as Hedwig took off, Harry noticed Marcus's owl, Archie, flying in with a letter tied to his leg.

"I was wondering when I would get a letter from my parents," Marcus said as he untied the letter from his owl's leg, opened it up, and starting reading out loud.

_"Dear Marcus,_

_How are you enjoying your first week at Hogwarts? We hope that you're giving it your best shot in all of your classes._

_Make sure to try and make as many friends as possible, Marcus. It doesn't do any good to go through your time in Hogwarts alone. Try to open up a bit to others, let them see the amazing young man that you are._

_We are very proud of you, Marcus. Make sure to send us a letter as soon as possible._

_Love, Mom and Dad._

_P.S. Tell Harry that we say hi!"_

"You parents know me?" Harry asked him.

"They knew your parents," Marcus stated. "They went to Hogwarts in the same year as your parents did."

"And you were going to mention this when?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"I was going to do it soon," Marcus stated. "Harry, it's not like I was going to say that in our first meeting. That would've been awkward."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Harry said.

"What's this part about opening up to others?" Ron asked him as he pointed to that particular part of the letter.

"Well, I didn't have a lot of friends growing up," said Marcus, who was starting to get tense. "Not since I was five, anyway. Obviously, things are different now."

Harry and Ron looked at each other when Marcus said this. Sure, Marcus was their friend, but he was a little different from the other students. For one thing, he never really smiled, no matter what the situation was. All he ever did was smirk at best. Then, there was the fact that he seemed tense all the time, like something or someone was bound to pop out of nowhere at any moment. Perhaps, it seemed to Harry and Ron, that all he needed was more time around people to ease this side of him.

"Ron, could I borrow a bit of parchment?" asked Marcus.

"Oh, sure," said Ron, who handed him some parchment and Marcus got to work on his letter.

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_ Hogwarts is a pretty amazing school, to be honest. Tons of interesting stuff always happening. I've made a couple of friends in Harry and Ron Weasley. You might know his dad because I believe he works in the Ministry, though I'm not sure where._

_ It's still hard to try and open up to people. You both know why. I'm going to try my best to overcome this, though._

_ I've been doing pretty well in my classes. There's a girl that seems to do really well, which causes me to try and do better. I'm going to try and become friends with her next._

_ Haven't had Potions yet, though I haven't heard anything good about it. _

_ Well, that's all for now. I'll be sure to keep you updated as much as possible._

_ Love, Marcus._

As Marcus tied his letter to Archie's leg, Ron looked at Marcus and said, "You're honestly going to try and become friends with her?!"

"She's not all that bad," said Marcus. "Just a little eager than most."

"Mental, she is," Ron stated.

"Come on, you two," said Harry. "We're going to be late if we don't get a move on."

With that, the three of them made their way down to the dungeons.

It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry - he hated him, but not as much as Marcus, who Snape seemed to despised with every fiber of his being.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."

However, when he got to Marcus's name, he coldly stated, "Marcus Williams, another celebrity with a bloated ego and no sense of reality."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands while Marcus was shaking with anger. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. Like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry, Marcus and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air as well as Marcus's.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione and Marcus's hands.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat while Marcus kept his hand raised, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, sir." "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand as well as Marcus's hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione and Marcus do, though, why don't you try them?"

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

All of a sudden, Snape turned to Marcus and said, "Williams! "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"You would get a sleeping potion so powerful, it is known as the Draught of Living Death, sir," said Marcus with no hesitation.

"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat, sir," said Marcus immediately.

"What is the difference, Williams, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"There is no difference as they are the same plant, which can be called aconite," stated Marcus.

"Well, Mr. Williams, it seems clear that you like to show attention to yourself by being a sufferable know-it-all, much like your own no good father," said Snape coldly.

As Marcus was fighting the urge to break the table in front of them, Snape looked to the rest of the class and said, "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron.

"Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were low. He'd lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week - why did Snape hate him so much?

"That foul, evil git!" exclaimed Marcus, beside his usual demeanor. "Who does he think he is, belittling students like that! I'm surprised that he can see past that greasy hair of his!"

"Cheer up, both of you" said Ron, "And Harry, Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with the two of you?"

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang - back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry, Marcus and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Harry, Marcus and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her - Filch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"Probably some history behind that, if you ask me," Marcus said.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron in a hurry. "I liked him a lot - great with animals."

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Marcus, who was reading the article over Harry's shoulders, "that Gringotts break-in happened on Harry's birthday! It sounds like it was happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's or Marcus's eyes this time. He grunted and offered them another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Harry, Marcus and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry or Marcus?

**Thank you so much for reading! Next chapter should be up right now!**


	8. The Midnight Duel

**Let's not waste any time here!**

**Disclaimer: Owning Harry Potter would be as possible as having a genie, which is to say not at all. Though, the OC's are mine, so not a complete loss.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 7: The Midnight Duel

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy.

Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday - and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

"I'll bet that Malfoy ends up embarrassing himself in Flying Lessons," said Marcus. "Who knows, embarassing himself might even put a bit of color on that ghostly skin of his."

"I'll take that bet!" Seamus said. "Five Galleons against your bet sound all right?"

Harry and Ron looked at Marcus, who smirked and said, "It's a bet," as the two of them shook hands.

Malfay certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Marcus told anyone who would listen on how he was taught some valuable tips and lessons from the U.S. Team's Chasers, which seemed to grab everyone's attention. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry and Marcus had once caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team already, trying to make the players move.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book - not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red - oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet.

"You've forgotten something..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry, Marcus, and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

Marcus then noticed Archie coming in the Great Hall and said, "All right, more mail!"

He fed Archie some of his table scraps as he opened the letter and read:

_Marcus,_

_I heard that you're really enjoying your time at Hogwarts. I'm really glad you feel this way, Marcus. Hogwarts is an amazing place with all sorts of things to discover. So, do try and discover all that you can._

_I know that I wasn't able to be there much for your childhood, and it is my fault. I will do everything I can to be there as you mature into the wonderful adult I know you will become._

_Be sure to do your best and, as long as you don't choose to stay over Christmas, I'll see you around that time._

_-Uncle Remus_

"You didn't tell us you had an uncle, Marcus," Ron stated.

"That's because he's not actually my uncle," Marcus stated as he got out some spare parchment. "He's known my family for so long, however, that he practically is my uncle. I'll be sure to introduce him to you guys sometime."

As Marcus was writing back to him, Ron looked at Harry and said, "I like Marcus and all, but he seems to have more bloody secrets than a Gringotts vault."

"I don't think we should push him, though," Harry told him. "When he's ready, he'll tell us. He's trusted us this far."

As Marcus saw Archie fly off, he looked at Harry and Ron and said, "What are the two of you talking about?"

"Nothing," said Harry and Ron quickly.

"Uh huh," said Marcus. "Look, let's get going to the common room. We still have some homework to get done before flying lessons this afternoon."

With that, the three of them left for the common room.

* * *

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, Marcus, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UPF everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once and so did Marcus's, but their brooms were one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quiver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years while Marcus simply smirked at the look on Malfoy's face.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -

WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll get us all into trouble."

"Show Malfoy what you're made of, Harry," said Marcus.

Harry nodded his. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him -and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught - this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.

Hermione rounded on Marcus and said, "Why did you encourage Harry like that?!"

"Because it's far better to put a bully or a tyrant in their place than following the rules and letting them do what they want," said Marcus with a straight face.

Stunned by his words, Hermione looked back in the air to see Harry turning his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!" "Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfay like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down - next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball - wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching - he stretched out his hand - a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"

His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. He got to his feet, trembling.

"Never - in all my time at Hogwarts -"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "- how dare you - might have broken your neck -"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor -"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil."

"But Malfoy -"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up. Now he'd done it. He hadn't even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep?

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to him. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harry trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking him to Dumbledore. He thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps he could be Hagrid's assistant. His stomach twisted as he imagined it, watching Ron and the others becoming wizards, while he stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag.

Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood? thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on him?

But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry.

"In here."

Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood - I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Harry nodded silently. He didn't have a clue what was going on, but he didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to his legs.

"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Harry and staring at him. "Light - speedy - we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor - a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks..."

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry.

"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

Then she suddenly smiled.

"Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

* * *

"You're joking."

It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron and Marcus what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"Seeker?" he said. "But first years never - you must be the youngest house player-"

"-in about a century, said Harry, shoveling pie into his mouth. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me."

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry.

"Well, if they were going to bend the rules at all, it would be in the case of the Seeker," said Marcus. "Having a Quidditch team without a Seeker is like a witch or wizard without a wand."

"That's so true, too," Ron said in agreement.

"I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.

"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too - Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Marcus, wheeling around. "I'm his second, Ron's his third. Who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe, then Goyle," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Ron, Harry, and Marcus looked at each other. "What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Marcus casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

"Excuse me."

They all looked up. It was Hermione Granger.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying -"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered, Marcus punching his arm.

"-and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

"Good-bye," said Ron.

All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, Harry thought, as he lay awake much later listening to Dean and Seamus falling asleep (Neville wasn't back from the hospital wing). Ron and Marcus had spent all evening giving him advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them." There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Harry felt he was pushing his luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoys sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness - this was his big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face. He couldn't miss it.

"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go."

They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.

"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother, Ron," Hermione snapped, "Percy - he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Harry couldn't believe anyone could be so interfering.

"Just ignore her, guys," said Marcus. "Come on."

Before any one of them could proceed out the portrait hole, Hermione looked at Marcus and said, "You just want an excuse to fight, you bully!"

Harry and Ron looked at Marcus in horror, who rounded on Hermione with tears in his eyes, saying, "Don't you dare say that to me ever again."

Hermione, realizing what she said, stated, "Marcus, I'm-"

"Forget it," said Marcus through gritted teeth, who went through the portrait hole, Harry and Ron following close behind.

Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily, however. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away," hissed Ron.

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so -"

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are not!," growled Marcus.

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all four of us, I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"You've got some nerve -" said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, all of you!" said Harry sharply. I heard something."

It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville," whispered Marcus. "The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm?" said Harry.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good - well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later -"

"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry and Marcus hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak -and it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the other four to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run -he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Marcus yelled, and the five of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following - they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going - they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

I - told -you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I - told - you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you - Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Harry thought she was probably right, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

"Let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves - please - you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Marcus, taking a swipe at Peeves, which was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door - and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!" They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, 'Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open - they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please."'

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right -please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay - get off, Neville!" For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "What?"

Harry turned around - and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare - this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant. Harry and Ron noticed Marcus giving away an unnatural grin, his eyes giving off a gold color, almost as if he was excited at the prospect at taking on this monstrosity.

Harry groped for the doorknob - between Filch and death, he'd take Filch.

They fell backward - Harry having grabbed Marcus, slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared - all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that - pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on.

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

She stood up, glaring at them.

I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed - or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

"How is getting expelled worse than getting killed?" Marcus asked exasperately.

Ron stared after her, his mouth open.

"No, we don't mind," he said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you."

But Hermione had given Harry something else to think about as he climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something... What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide - except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though Harry had found out where the grubby littie package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.

However, he put that to the back of his mind at the moment as he and Ron looked at Marcus.

"What?" he asked.

"What happened in that corrider?" asked Harry.

"Oh, that," Marcus said. "Well, whenever there's something or someone stronger than me's looking for a fight, something inside me just itches to fight. I can't really explain it."

"And what was up with your eyes, mate?" asked Ron. "They were glowing gold."

"Oh, that," said Marcus. "Sometimes, I get this sensation in my eyes, and my eyesight becomes clearer, more alert. It only happens occasionally, though."

"And, about your eagerness to fight, it wouldn't have anything to do with your past, would it," asked Ron.

"Why does that matter?" asked Marcus, who was suddenly getting tense.

"Because we're worried about you," Harry replied. "I didn't want to push it, but after what we've been through tonight, we need you to trust us and tell us why you act like that."

Ron then said, "Look, we're your friends. We promise to keep your secrets exactly that: secret."

Marcus looked a little angry as he said, "You two want to know? You two really want to know?"

As the two of them nodded their heads, Marcus said, "Fine! Before I turned five years old, I was a normal child. I laughed, I smiled, I was genuinely happy. Then, that bastard came. That monster in his cloak and suit, with those red eyes, dark hair and evil smile. He killed my babysitter right in front of my eyes. Her eyes were empty, staring up into the sky. I couldn't do anything to save her, I could only watch as her life was taken in front of me. Then, I was immobile in the air, unable to speak and at the mercy of this twisted man. He talked for a while, though about what, I'm not sure. Then, he did this to me."

He lifted up his shirt to reveal horrendous scars covering his front torso in the shape of a crown with a great big X inside the crown, some of which looking quite deep. Harry felt like throwing up looking at Marcus's scars.

"Bloody Hell!" exclaimed Ron. "That's-"

"The Dark Prince's Mark," finished Marcus. "Specifically, one that he's marked on someone he plans to murder."

He put down his shirt and continued, "For each scar he made, he cast the spell that caused unimaginable pain throughout my body. I wanted it to stop, I just wanted it to end. What had I done to deserve such pain, I wanted to ask him. Eventually, he told me words that I will never forget: 'Love is for the weak. Love is for fools who put their feelings ahead of their logic and power. If you want to beat me, boy, you'd better bring your hate and ferocity.' I don't remember too much after that."

The three of them were quiet for a long time, until finally Marcus said, "The thought of beating that man has been my focus, my drive for bettering myself. So much so that I haven't been truly happy in a long time. I'm famous for something I wished had never happened, something I don't even fully remember. Witches and Wizards across the world know my name because of a man who was determined to destroy me, to utterly anihilate me. That, and this horrible hair."

He yanked on his pure white hair before continuing, "No matter what I did, no matter how friendly I was to the people around me, I was isolated, belittled, laughed at by any Muggle child I was around. They considered me a freak and wanted nothing to do with me. I'd almost given up trying to make any friends. Then, I met you guys."

He looked to the fireplace before saying, "I still don't trust a lot of people, but perhaps, if I start to really trust you two, I'll be able to know trust and love again, to regain my true self."

Ron looked at him for a little bit before saying, "I'm sorry, mate. I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's okay," said Marcus. "I needed to tell somebody. I'm fortunate that it was the both of you. Now, let's go to bed."

With that, the three of them went to bed, the bonds of their friendship growing just a little bit stronger than before.

**Thank you so much for reading! Next chapter should be up at this point!**


	9. Halloween

**Time to make things interesting! Here's another chapter of HP: Path of the Stone!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, only the OC's.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 8: Halloween

Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry, Marcus and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning, the three of them thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harry and Marcus filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection. "It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron. "Or both," said Harry. "It's probably both, considering a goblin had to use magic to open the vault," said Marcus.

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to the three boys, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that Harry and Ron saw this as an added bonus, though Marcus didn't seem to feel that way. All they really wanted now, however, was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.

Professor McGonagall

Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron and Marcus to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

"Oh, Harry, you'll be really happy with this broom!" Marcus said. "It's got superb acceleration and braking, and the craftmanship is well done! Come on, let's go have a look at it somewhere else!"

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron and Marcus couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry. Marcus gave a smirk as he said, "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.

Harry, Marcus and Ron headed upstairs, Marcus watching Harry and Ron smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion. "Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouln't be on the team..."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."

Marcus wanted to say something to Hermione, but before he could, she marched away with her nose in the air.

Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where he'd be learning to play that night. He bolted his dinner that evening without noticing what he was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ron and Marcus to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread.

Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

"You'll have to let me know what you think of your first experience on a Nimbus Two Thousand, Harry," Marcus told him. "I can guarantee it's something you'll never forget." Harry could only nod.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. Held never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling - he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.

"Hey, Potter, come down!'

Oliver Wood had arrived, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry landed next to him.

"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant... you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."

He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers."

"Three Chasers," Harry repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball.

"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Harry recited. "So - that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?"

"What's basketball?" said Wood curiously. "Never mind," said Harry quickly.

"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper -I'm Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."

"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Harry, who was determined to remember it all. "And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are they for?" He pointed at the three balls left inside the box.

"I'll show you now," said Wood. "Take this."

He handed Harry a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.

"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are the Bludgers."

He showed Harry two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Harry noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

"Stand back," Wood warned Harry. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry's face. Harry swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air - it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team - the Weasley twins are ours - it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So - think you've got all that?"

"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Harry reeled off.

"Very good," said Wood.

"Er - have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harry asked, hoping he sounded offhand.

"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers unless they crack my head open."

"Don't worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers - I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."

Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages - I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep. Well, that's it - any questions?"

Harry shook his head. He understood what he had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.

"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these."

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch.

Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.

"That Quidditch cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."

Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. His lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Marcus (which was a relief, because Neville had been trying to catch his eye). Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to any of them since the day Harry's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was very difficult for Harry as he swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Marcus just sat there, looking lost in thought.

"Marcus, aren't you going to try?" Harry asked.

"I'm going to let you try a little bit more before I give it a go," said Marcus.

Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Marcus overheard Ron's tone and said, "Ron, seriously, give it a rest!"

"I haven't seen you do it!" Ron snapped at him. "Come on, both of you!"

Marcus just sighed and readied his wand while Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, they flicked their wands, and they said in unison, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Their feathers rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger and Mister Williams have done it!"

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. "It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry and Marcus as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Harry caught a glimpse of her face - and was startled to see that she was in tears.

"I think she heard you."

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

Marcus proceeded to punch Ron's left arm, who recoiled and said, "What was that for, Marcus?!"

"Do you not understand at all?" Marcus growled.

"Other than her being a bossy know-it-all?" Ron said back.

"Prior to coming to Hogwarts, she had no knowledge of the Wizarding World," Marcus told him. "Now that she's learned she's a witch, she's very interested in everything that has to do with magic and takes the time to learn the facts. Granted, she's a little eccentric, but there's nothing wrong with that! And then people like you go around calling her a bossy know-it-all for being curious about our world!"

Ron looked very uncomfortable as he stated, "Well, maybe if she toned it down a bit, she wouldn't be such a nightmare."

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry, Marcus and Ron overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, especially since Marcus shot him a dirty look, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."

"Even Peeves wouldn't be that devious," Marcus told them. "The Bloody Baron would have his ghostly hide otherwise."

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron and Marcus's arms.

"I've just thought - Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll," Marcus stated, wide eyed as this thought dawned on them.

Ron bit his lip.

"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling Harry and Marcus behind a large stone griffin.

Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's he doing?" Marcus whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

"Search me."

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Ron held up his hand.

"Can you smell something?"

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it - a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed - at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The keys in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," said Ron nervously.

They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it.

'Yes!"

Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop - a high, petrified scream - and it was coming from the chamber they'd just chained up.

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

"It's the girls' bathroom!" Harry gasped.

"Oh, crap!" Marcus exclaimed.

"Hermione!" they said together.

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic. Harry pulled the door open and they ran inside.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

Marcus, getting that unnatural grin again and his eyes turning the color of gold, started running at the troll, saying, "Hey, big and ugly!"

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Marcus. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it and Marcus enough time to punch the back of his knees.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Marcus, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand - not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over - and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot, but not falling down. Marcus took this opportunity to jump off the wall and punch the back of the troll's head, which then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done and Marcus was simply shaking off his robes of dust.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it - dead?"

I don't think so," said Harry.

Don't worry, I think it's just been knocked out," said Marcus, who was inspecting the troll's face.

Harry bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh - troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the four of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron, Marcus and Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air looking at Marcus, who suddenly wasn't looking so good. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Harry and Marcus swift, piercing looks. Both of them looked at the floor while Marcus was wishing Ron would put his wand down at any moment.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall - they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

"I went looking for the troll because I - I thought I could deal with it on my own - you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand while Marcus looked at her in shock. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher? "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose, Ron knocked it out with its own club and Marcus made him crash to the floor. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

The three boys tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

"Well - in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry, Marcus and Ron.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than fifteen points," Ron grumbled.

"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's," Harry pointed out.

"Still, it's been an interesting night," Marcus told them. "We took out a troll, Ron learned that spell, and we helped out Hermione."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

* * *

Once again, Marcus saw the man who he despised with every being in his body, relaxing at the topmost portion of the fortress out at sea. The man, who was waiting quietly against a wall, suddenly put his left index finger to his right shoulder and said, "Status report, servant."

There was silence for a couple of seconds before saying, "So, a troll was loose in Hogwarts and was stopped by Marcus Williams and his friends. I should've known better than to hope that a troll would succeed, especially if it was commanded by that lousy idiot. Still, this doesn't change a thing. As long as the boy continues to grow and heal, that's all that matters."

Silence ensued for another few seconds before saying, "You stubborn idiot! Killing the boy is not an option, especially when he has the protection of that Muggle-loving fool and his parents. He does not realize his true worth and potential, and by the time he does, it will be far too late for him." He was, again, silent for some time before saying, "All I ask from you, servant, is to keep me informed. That day will eventually come and, when it does, the rising of the Dark Lord will follow soon after. Until then, you are to do as I say."

He then lifted his finger off his shoulder and Marcus saw no more.

**Thank you so much for reading! Next chapter should be up right about now!**


	10. Quidditch

**Just halfway done and more to come! I'm thankful that you've taken the time to read this, I really am. Anyway, one last thing...**

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I thought that would've been obvious by now. The OC's are mine, not hers, so that's a plus.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 8: Quidditch

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse - people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her and Marcus helping him, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry, Marcus and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the four of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. Harry, Ron, Marcus and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

"Wait a minute," said Marcus. "What could possibly cause such an injury?"

"Not sure," said Harry.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, Marcus and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione and Marcus were checking Harry and Ron's Charms homework for them. They would never let them copy ("How will you learn?" said Hermione), but by asking them to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

Harry felt restless. He wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of Snape? Getting up, he told Ron, Marcus and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could have it.

"Better you than me," they said together, but Harry had an idea that Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.

He made his way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door ajar and peered inside - and a horrible scene met his eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but -

"POTTER!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped.

"I just wondered if I could have my book back."

"GET OUT! OUT!"

Harry left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. He sprinted back upstairs.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Harry joined them. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him - he's after whatever it's guarding! And Id bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No - he wouldn't, she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

"We don't have anyway of knowing what that dog's guarding, just like we have no way of knowing what truly happened on Halloween," said Marcus. Ron was about to snap at Marcus, but Marcus put up a finger and continued, "I'm not saying Snape is innocent, but we have to have some kind of proof before we can be sure."

Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind - he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours - but the expression on Snape's face when Harry had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget.

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheer ful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

"Harry, if you don't eat anything in the next ten seconds, I'm going to stuff your toast in your mouth," said Marcus.

"All right, all right, I got it," said Harry, who quickly picked up his toast and started eating it.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron, Marcus and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors while Marcus enchancted the lion to roar whenever he wanted it to.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too -"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Flint flying like an eagle up there - he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger - Quaffle taken by the Slytherins - that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes - she's really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goal posts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins and Harry heard the lion roar, making him feel braver than before he got into the air.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Ron, Marcus and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."

When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the - wait a moment - was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch -all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs - he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead - - he put on an extra spurt of speed -

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below - Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Marcus reminded him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So - after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating-"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul-"

'Jordan, I'm warning you -"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal- posts - he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out - and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession - Flint with the Quaffle - passes Spinnet - passes Bell - hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose - only joking, Professor - Slytherins score - Oh no...

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying- him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have..."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic - no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape - look."

Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something - jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

"Wait a moment," said Marcus.

But Hermione had disappeared.

"Ron, give me those binoculars," said Marcus and, when Ron gave them to him, he drew his attention to where Snape was sitting.

His focus, however, was anywhere else but Snape. And it didn't take him long to find out what was truly going on.

_"I got it!" _thought Marcus. _"There's a possibility for that, too! But, of course, I can't prove anything!"_

"Marcus, have you noticed anything?" asked Ron.

"Um, no, I haven't," lied Marcus, who gave the binoculars back to Ron.

Ron put the binoculars up to his eyes and turned his attention back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good - every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.

Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row - Snape would never know what had happened.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick - he hit the field on all fours - coughed - and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference - Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results - Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron, Marcus and Hermione.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

The four of them looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.

"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

"Fluffy?!" asked an exasperated Marcus. "That monster has a name?!"

"Yeah - he's mine - bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year - I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-"

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it," Ron said.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.

The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

Marcus was about to bring up what he saw at the match, but then decided against it.

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all four of yeh - yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel -"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

**Again, thank you so much for reading! Next chapter should be up by this point!**


	11. The Mirror of Erised

**This is the chapter I've been looking forward to post the most! You'll see why shortly! In the meantime...**

**Disclaimer: Surprise! I own nothing, save for the OC's.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 10: The Mirror of Erised

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. Even Marcus was staying, telling them that his Mom and Dad were too busy with work this year to be home for Christmas, but Harry knew better and was glad that they were staying.

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Are you sure, Hagrid?" asked Marcus.

"Don't worry about me, boys," said Hagrid.

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoys cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose - that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

"I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him -"

"I hate them both," said Harry, "Malfoy and Snape."

"They just make my blood boil every time they open their freaking mouths," Marcus said.

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the four of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to -the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree - put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me -Harry, Ron, Marcus, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here - I've told yeh - drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Marcus added. "I mean, the library is huge! All you have to do is tell us, Hagrid."

"I'm sayin' nothin, said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random, and Marcus would go through a couple of pages of a book before putting it back on the shelf. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"What are you looking for, boy?"

"Nothing," said Harry.

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him.

"You'd better get out, then. Go on - out!"

Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library. He, Ron, Marcus and Hermione had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to.

Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other three had found anything, but he wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.

Five minutes later, Ron, Marcus and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.

Once the holidays had started, the boys were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork - bread, English muffins, marshmallows - and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.

Ron and Marcus also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family - in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him." Marcus, having played a lot of wizard chess with his mom and dad, was giving Ron a run for his Galleons each time they played against each other and, in fact, was beating Ron almost as much as Ron beating him.

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

"Merry Christmas," said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe.

"You, too," said Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" said Marcus, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's.

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it - it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," said Harry.

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.

"Weird!" he said, 'What a shape! This is money?"

"You can keep it," said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle - so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and - oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

Marcus, who was opening his presents in silence, said, "Hey, looks like I got one too." And he very much did, which was white with a black M.

Harry's next present also contained candy - a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.

This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is - they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?"

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," said Marcus, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is - try it on."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron and Marcus gave a yell.

"It is! Look down!" they said at the same time.

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words: Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.

A Very Merry Christmas to you.

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron and Marcus was admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," Ron said. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?

Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. He didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look - Harry and Marcus have gotten a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

"Theirs are better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up their sweaters. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid - we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry and Marcus got one."

"I - don't - want," said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce - and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.

Harry, Marcus and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron and Marcus. He suspected he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it.

Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Marcus, as usual, closed himself off to the world as soon as he got to his bed. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it.

His father's... this had been his father's. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.

He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.

Use it well.

Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Ron grunted in his sleep and Marcus wasn't making any sound. Should Harry wake them? Something held him back - his father's cloak - he felt that this time - the first time - he wanted to use it alone.

He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing. He walked quickly down the corridor.

Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles.

They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.

He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence - the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside - stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.

He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library's Restricted Section."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into him - the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket - but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.

He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed - for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder - but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air - she and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes - her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green - exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.

Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees - Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.

The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.

"You could have woken us up," said Ron, crossly.

"Yeah, Harry, you should have definitely woken us up," said Marcus, who was just as unhappy.

"You guys can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you two the mirror."

"I'd like to see your mom and dad," Ron and Marcus said eagerly.

"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone."

"You can see them any old time," said Ron. "Just come round my house this summer, both of you. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

Harry couldn't eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?

"Are you all right there, Harry?" said Marcus. "You look awfully odd."

What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron and Marcus covered in the cloak, too, they had to walk much more slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harry's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.

"I'm freezing," said Ron. "Let's forget it and go back."

"Are you freaking kidding?" growled Marcus. "After all this wandering around?"

"No!" Harry hissed. "I know it's here somewhere."

They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. Just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor.

"It's here - just here - yes!"

They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror.

There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him.

"See?" Harry whispered.

"I can't see anything."

"Nothing at all," said Marcus.

"Look! Look at them all... there are loads of them..."

"I can only see you and Marcus."

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am. Marcus, stand over to the side."

Marcus stepped to the side and looked up at the top of the mirror.

"What the heck?" said Marcus. "I show not your face, but your heart's desire?"

Harry and Ron whipped to the direction of Marcus and said, "What?"

"That what that message says at the top if you read it backwards," said Marcus.

Harry stepped aside next to Marcus, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.

Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.

"Look at me!" he said.

"Can you see all your family standing around you?" Harry asked.

"No - I'm alone - but I'm different - I look older - and I'm head boy!"

"What?" Harry and Marcus said in unison.

"I am - I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to - and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup - I'm Quidditch captain, too.

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry and Marcus.

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

"How can it? All my family are dead - let me have another look -"

"No way, it's Marcus's turn," said Ron.

Fearing what this mirror could possibly show him, Marcus said, "Oh, no, it's fine, guys. I don't need to look at the mirror."

"Come off it," Harry said. "Both me and Ron looked, now it's your turn."

"Guys, I really don't-"

But, before he could make any further protests, both Ron and Harry picked him up from either side, walked to the front of the mirror, put him down, and stepped off to the side in a hurry.

Feeling defeated, Marcus looked directly in the mirror.

At first, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. His reflection had his old hair color, that beautiful red hair color he desperately wanted back and his reflection was smiling. A genuine smile, one he knew he hadn't done in years. But, why was his reflection smiling so?

Without warning, his reflection lifted up his shirt and Marcus stifled a gasp. He was looking at his front torso, a front torso with none of those hideous scars that poked and pried at his self-confidence.

Then, he saw himself surrounded by friends and family, hugging and talking, laughing and joking, as if they knew the real him, the true Marcus Williams.

Marcus was trying so hard to keep his compsure, to prevent himself from breaking down, to stay strong, but the next thing the mirror showed would destroy all of that.

The reflection looked to his left and in came the most beautiful girl Marcus had ever seen in his life. She had long, silky red hair, beautiful green eyes that shined like emeralds, a smile that was as brilliant as diamonds, and she had eyes only for him, for his reflection.

Marcus felt the tears running down his cheeks as he watched his reflection take the leading hand of the beautiful girl and started dancing together, smiling and laughing, clearly smitten with each other and didn't have a care in the world as long as they had each other.

He felt his heart aching, longing for what he was seeing as the two started kissing, clearly caught up in their passion for each other.

Marcus could not stand any more of this abuse, this emotional torture he was enduring, looking at this foul mirror. He cocked his right fist back and tried to shatter the mirror, but before his fist could make contact, the mirror blasted him back, landing him right on his behind.

Harry and Ron, who were watching all of this, ran over to Marcus and Harry asked, "Are you all right, Marcus? What happened? What did you see?"

Marcus proceeded to cover up his face, letting the tears run from his eyes, saying behind his hands, "I can't bring myself to say what I saw, not now. I just can't."

Before they could try to comfort Marcus any further, they heard a sudden noise outside in the corridor, all three of them feeling the color drain from their faces. They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking.

"Quick!" Harry hissed at Ron.

Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Ron, Marcus and Harry stood quite still, all of them thinking the same thing - did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, she turned and left.

"This isn't safe - she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."

And Ron and Harry helped Marcus on his feet and walked out of the room.

The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.

"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.

"No."

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?" Marcus asked.

"No... you guys go..."

"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight," Ron told him.

"Why not?"

"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it - and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"

"You sound like Hermione."

"We're serious, Harry, don't you dare go back to that mirror tonight," Marcus told him.

But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron and Marcus weren't going to stop him.

* * *

As Marcus saw Harry leaving that night, Marcus muttered to himself, "Oh, no you don't."

Marcus quickly followed Harry out of the Gryffindor common and to the stairs leading to the sixth floor, but before he could advance any further, he heard the creaking of the stairs in front of him, which meant somebody else was coming straight in his direction.

_"Crap!" _thought Marcus as he hurried through the seventh floor as fast as he could and eventually found himself at a dead end with a portrait of a man trying to teach trolls ballet.

_"Oh, this isn't good at all!" _thought Marcus and started pacing furiously up and down the corridor thinking, _"I need a place where I can't be found, I need a place where I can't be found, I need a place where I can't be found."_

In his concentration, he almost missed the sound of scraping. He looked and saw a door that wasn't there before. Not about to question it, he hurried up, opened the door, got inside, closed the door, and stood there and waited.

He heard an oily, greasy voice say, "Could've swore I heard a student out of bed on this floor. Must've been hearing things. Come on, my sweet. Let's patrol the rest of the castle."

As soon as he didn't hear any voices, Marcus said out loud," Phew! I thought I was going to get caught for sure!"

He then started observing the room and said out loud, "It's interesting how this room came out of nowhere and helped me out like that. Hmm, I wonder..."

He then closed his eyes and thought, _"I need a way to learn complex magic, I need a way to learn complex magic, I need a way to learn complex magic."_

He opened his eyes and found himself in a much bigger room than before, with a single bookshelf full of books standing in the middle of the room.

He ran to the bookshelf and picked out the first book he read, saying, "20 steps to make yourself disappear." Marcus allowed a smirk to don his face as he said, "I'm going to be reading this book extensively. Huh, what's this?"

He noticed one giant book all alone at the top most shelf. He grabbed it and read out loud, "How to become-"

He gave a double take at the title, then said out loud, "I'll have to come up with a schedule for coming here frequently. I need to know how to do these things as quick as I can."

He thought himself quite fortunate until he realized something.

"What if this room doesn't appear for me again?" he asked himself. "What if I'm never able to come across this room?"

Then, he started thinking out loud, "Now, hold on. When I desperately needed a place to hide, this room helped me out. So, I'll have to assume that this room helps anyone who really needs it. Well, with that mindset, I could access the room again. But, what's the trick to entering this room in the first place?"

He retraced his actions before entering the room and said out loud, "I walked the opposite side of that ballet trolls' portrait three times while thinking really hard on what I needed. I could use the same pattern tomorrow night and see if that works. Yeah, I'll do that."

He then turned his attention to the books and said, "In the meantime, however, let's get to training."

* * *

That third night, Harry found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone.

And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.

Except -

"So - back again, Harry?"

Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.

" - I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, Sir."

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It - well - it shows me my family -"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy and Marcus his desire."

"How did you know -?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..."

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood up.

"Sir - Professor Dumbledore? What did Marcus see in the Mirror?"

Dumbledore's face grew sad as he said, "Well, I can see that you are deeply concerned for Marcus, so perhaps this one time, I can reveal a secret. What Marcus saw in the mirror was himself, whole again and being able to express all of his feelings and knowing he can recieve and reciprocate, as well."

"Sir, I don't quite understand," Harry told him.

"Marcus was brutally attacked almost seven years ago by Voldemort's best lieutenant, the Dark Prince, as he has already told you," Dumbledore explained. "This action has left Marcus emotionally scarred, closing the door on his good emotions and leaving nothing but his negative emotions, such as hate, anger, and aggressiveness. He's been this way for so long that he finds it difficult to re-open the door." Harry was about to say something when Dumbledore put up a finger and said, "That's not to say that he hasn't tried, Harry. He has tried a great number of times. But, up until he walked through these very doors for the first time, he lacked the one thing that can start him on the right path."

"What's that, sir?" asked Harry.

"Friends," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Friends who care about him, who will be with him when times are hard. Marcus Williams, while a very talented young boy, has a long way to go and I ask that you and your friends help him regain what he lost so very long ago."

"Of course, sir," said Harry.

He made his way to the steps to the door when he looked at Dumbledore and asked, "Sir, can I ask you something else?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Harry stared.

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.

**Another chapter complete! Don't go anywhere, the next chapter is ready to be read!**


	12. Nicolas Flamel

**All right, we're getting close now! How exciting! Oh, and as always...**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter's not mine, just the OC's.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 11: Nicolas Flamel

Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Ron, when Harry told them about these drearns.

Marcus eventually told Ron and Harry of what he saw in the Mirror of Erised and, knowing what he needed to do as his friend, cheered him up by letting him ride on his broomstick that same afternoon.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry and Marcus being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that they hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry had even less time than the other three, because Quidditch practice had started again.

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry was on Wood's side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after training.

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words.

"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of the team landed next to George to complain, too.

"It's not my fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

Which was all very well, thought Harry, but he had another reason for not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quidditch...

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Ron, Marcus and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something the boys thought was very good for her.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, "I need to concen -" Marcus nudged Ron when he caught sight of Harry's face. "What's the matter with you, Harry? You look freaking terrible."

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other three about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," said Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.

"Really break your leg," said Ron.

Marcus hit his right arm and said, "He can't break his leg on purpose, Harry's their only seeker!"

"Marcus's right, I can't," said Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling. "What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry, Marcus and Ron.

"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"

Neville shook his head.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"Ron's right, Neville!" Marcus told him. "There comes a time when enough is enough and you take on your oppressors!"

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry... I think I'll go to bed... D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.

"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever-"

He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron, Marcus and Hermione.

"I've found him!" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here - listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!"

Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since they'd gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework.

"Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. The boys barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.

At last she found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I knew it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.

"The what?" said Harry and Ron.

Marcus, however, knew immediately knew what she was talking about and said, "Are you freaking serious?!"

Hermione nodded her head fervently and, when she saw that Harry and Ron were still confused, said to them, "Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look - read that, there."

She pushed the book toward them, and Harry and Ron read: The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).

"See?" said Hermione, when Harry and Ron had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"Hagrid did say that the only place safer than Gringotts is Hogwarts!" Marcus exclaimed. "This really makes sense now that we know it's the Sorcerer's Stone!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, the boys were still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry remembered about Snape and the coming match.

"I'm going to play," he told his three friends. "If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them... it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," said Hermione.

As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, whatever he told Ron, Marcus and Hermione. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the house championship was wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?

Harry didn't know whether he was imagining it or not, but he seemed to keep running into Snape wherever he went. At times, he even wondered whether Snape was following him, trying to catch him on his own. Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Snape was so horrible to Harry. Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the Sorcerer's Stone? Harry didn't see how he could - yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.

Harry knew, when they wished him good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see him alive again, though Marcus was confident that Gryffindor would win, not that it made it any easier on him. Harry hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as he pulled on his Quidditch robes and picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Ron, Marcus and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why all three of them brought their wands to the match. Little did Harry know that Ron, Marcus and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They'd gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry.

"Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.

"I know," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."

"Quiet!" hissed Marcus, which effectively shut the both of them up.

Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry aside.

"Don't want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."

"The whole school's out there!" said Fred Weasley, peering out of the door. "Even - blimey - Dumbledore's come to watch!"

Harry's heart did a somersault.

"Dumbledore?" he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.

Harry could have laughed out loud with relief. He was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt him if Dumbledore was watching.

Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field, something that Marcus noticed, too.

"I've never seen Snape look so angry," he told Hermione. "Look -they're off- Ouch!"

Someone had poked Marcus in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry, Williams, didn't see you there."

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money - you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

Ron's nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about Harry.

Marcus, having enough of Malfoy's insults at his friends, whipped around and said, "I'm warning you, Malfoy - one more word-"

"Ron, Marcus!" said Hermione suddenly, "Harry -"

"What? Where?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

"THAT DOES IT!" yelled Marcus. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Marcus was on top of him, wildly throwing punches at him while Ron dove at Crabbe and Goyle. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape - she didn't even notice Malfoy and Marcus rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches - the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

"Ron! Marcus! Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front.

Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn't believe it. He'd done it - the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped - then Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror... been keeping busy... excellent..."

Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

Harry left the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. He couldn't ever remember feeling happier. He'd really done something to be proud of now - no one could say he was just a famous name any more. The evening air had never smelled so sweet. He walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in his head, which was a happy blur: Gryffindors running to lift him onto their shoulders; Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed, Marcus merely walking with the two of them.

Harry had reached the shed. He leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead. He'd done it, he'd shown Snape...

And speaking of Snape...

A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. Harry's victory faded from his mind as he watched. He recognized the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner - what was going on?

Harry jumped back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he saw Snape enter the forest at a run. He followed.

The trees were so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he heard voices. He glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

He climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his broomstick, trying to see through the leaves. Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harry couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.

"... d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I -"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you-"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hooted loudly, and Harry nearly fell out of the tree. He steadied himself in time to hear Snape say, "- your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't -"

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but Harry could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. "Marcus gave Malfoy two black eyes and broken arms, and Neville and I took on Crabbe and Goyle! Neville's still out cold but Madam Pomftey says he'll be all right - talk about showing Slytherin! Marcus was vicious as a dragon, it was bloody incredible! Anyway, everyone's waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this..."

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard.

"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy - and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocus- I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through -"

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" said Hermione in alarm.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron and Marcus said at the same time.

**I really appreciate you all reading my story. It inspires me to continue on with the series! Speaking of which, next chapter should be up by now!**


	13. The Norweigan Ridgeback

**Finally, after this, the last three chapters! Go figure these chapters would have all the excitement! Anyway, there's always this:**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, just the OC's.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 12: Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they'd thought. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he'd cracked yet.

Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Ron, Marcus and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Harry passed Quirrell these days he gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron and Marcus had started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and colorcoding all her notes. Harry and Ron wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"She's right, you know," said Marcus, who was studying next to Hermione. "Personally, I'm going to ensure that I pass each exam without any problems whatsoever."

"But we've got a lot of time to study," Ron reminded them. "Anyway, what are you two studying for, you already know you're going to get A's."

"What am I studying for?" Hermione asked increduously. "Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me..."

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work.

However, Harry and Ron were never able to study with Marcus, considering Marcus would disappear for hours and appear just before bedtime.

"Harry, where do you think he goes to study?" Ron asked him.

"I don't know," Harry responded. "Let's ask him."

When they did, however, the only thing Marcus would say is that he was studying in a quiet place. Considering how tense he was when they asked, they didn't push it any further.

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Harry, who was looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until he heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?" "Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's the Sorcerer's St -"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Marcus, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy -"

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen - come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh -"

"See you later, then," said Harry.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?" Harry asked.

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron, who'd had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Dragons!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me and Marcus so the first time I ever met him, " said Harry.

"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden - anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" said Harry.

"Of course there are," said Marcus. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earths Hagrid up to?" said Hermione.

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused.

"So - yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at him.

"O' course I cant, he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts - I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry and Ron beamed at Hermione while Marcus smirked at her.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout - Professor Flitwick - Professor McGonagall -" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell - an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?"

"Yeah - yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Harry knew Ron, Marcus and Hermione were thinking the same as he was. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything - except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. aren't you, Hagrid?" said Marcus anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. Harry noticed him glance at the fire. Harry looked at it, too.

"Hagrid - what's that?"

But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's er..."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin' , said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library - Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit - it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here - how ter recognize diff'rent eggs - what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione and Marcus didn't.

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said.

"Which will be disastrous when the dragon does decide to get violent," Marcus pointed out.

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut. "Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione and Marcus had now started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. It was driving them nuts.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It's hatching.

Ron and Marcus wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"Well, let's see here...about never!" Marcus exclaimed.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -"

"Shut up!" Harry whispered.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? Harry didn't like the look on Malfoy's face at all.

Ron and Marcus argued with Hermione all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other two during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the four of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

At once, Marcus heard, _"Where am I?"_

He looked to the other people in the hut and said, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Ron asked.

Again, Marcus heard, _"Where am I?"_

He looked at the dragon and said, "Did you just say that?"

_"I did," _said the dragon, though Marcus wasn't sure how.

"You're in Scotland right now," said Marcus. "This is Hagrid, he'll be taking care of you."

_"What, this man?" _said the dragon as it sneezed, making a couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid.

_"I don't trust him, sire," _said the Ridgeback.

"Oh, trust me, if anyone can take care of dragons, Hagrid can," said Marcus, who looked to his friends, who were giving him really wierd looks.

"What?" asked Marcus.

"Hagrid," said Hermione, pulling away from looking at Marcus, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face - he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?" Marcus asked.

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains - it's a kid - he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking him.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week made Harry, Ron, Marcus and Hermione very nervous. They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"You must set the Ridgeback free, Hagrid," Marcus bluntly told Hagrid.

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

_"Don't you dare address me that way!" _exclaimed the Ridgeback who reared on it's hind legs.

"Settle down, Ridgeback!" said Marcus, who immediately went to calm the dragon down.

"Hagrid's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip.

"I - I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turned to Ron. "Charlie," he said.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No - Charlie - your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

"What do you think, Ridgeback?" asked Marcus. "How does Romania sound?"

_"Anywhere would be better than in this wretched hut!" _exclaimed the dragon.

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione, Marcus and Harry sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby. I told you, Marcus, you should've been down there instead of me!"

"Now that you mention it, Ron, I do have something to ask, Marcus," said Hermione.

"What's that?" asked Marcus.

"Did you actually talk to that dragon?" she asked.

"Well, of course," said Marcus in a matter-of-fact tone. "It would've been rude not to say anything. You all heard me talking to it in English."

"Not at all, Marcus," said Harry.

"You were mostly making some wierd rumbling sounds whenever you looked at the dragon," said Ron.

"Wait, I wasn't speaking English?" asked Marcus.

As all three of them shook their heads, Marcus, not sure what to make of this, said, "I just remembered, I have some last-minute studying I have to do. Excuse me."

With that, Marcus hurried out of the room.

Before Harry, Ron, and Hermione could say anything, there was a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" said Harry, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The three of them put their heads together to read the note.

Dear Ron,

How are you? Thanks for the letter - I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.

Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark.

Send me an answer as soon as possible.

Love,

Charlie

They looked at one another.

"We've got the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult - I think the cloak's big enough to cover the four of us and Norbert."

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other two agreed with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert - and Malfoy.

* * *

Meanwhile, Marcus was furiously training with the spell he so desperately wanted to master.

"Okay, so this step indicates to observe your surroundings at all times, so that's step 19," said Marcus out loud, reading from the pages of the spell book. "And, lastly, be at one with said surroundings as you cast the spell, which is step 20. Keep in mind that step 19 must be adhered to constantly or the spell will either be less effective or not work entirely. Well, that's just fabulous."

He took a look at the surroundings, making sure to absorb every single detail of the room he practiced in for two hours a night, every night since he discovered it over Christmas.

"All right, then," he said as he took a deep breath. "Here we go."

He said out loud, "Absconditus!" and waved the wand in circles above his head.

He did this with his eyes closed, making sure to concentrate on the spell. After a minute, however, he opened them and took a look at the mirror.

To his utter delight, he could not see himself. It was as if he was wearing his own Invisibility Cloak.

"Well, what do you know?" he said out loud. "It really does work! Oh, right. Finite Incantatum!"

As he regained visibility of his body, he said, "I'd better practice a few more times, just to see if that wasn't just a fluke."

After being able to successfully cast the spell and revert back several times, he studied his other topic of complex magic for an hour, and called it a night, feeling very confident with himself for the first time in years.

* * *

When Marcus got back to the dormitory, Harry and Ron proceeded to tell him exactly what was going to happen with Norbert, and Marcus was all in agreement. By the next morning, however, there was a hitch: Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey - would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Harry, Marcus and Hermione rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me - I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me -we shouldn't have messed with him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

Harry, Marcus and Hermione tried to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no, oh no - I've just remembered - Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

"You've got to be kidding me!" hissed Marcus. "Now we'll have to freaking worry about him on top of getting the dragon to the Astronomy Tower!"

Harry and Hermione didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told Hermione and Marcus. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the invisibility cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

"The three of us aren't going to be able to be covered by the cloak, not when we have to carry a dragon up to the Astronomy Tower, and we'll need Marcus to ensure that the dragon doesn't make a lot of noise," Hermione pointed out.

"Actually, there's no need to worry, trust me," Marcus said. "Let's just get down to Hagrid's and tell him."

They found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them.

"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage - nothin' I can't handle."

"Oh, for goodness sake, Hagrid, let me through," said Marcus, who forced his way through the door to calm down the dragon.

While Marcus was keeping the dragon busy, Harry and Hermione told Hagrid about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot - jus' playin' - he's only a baby, after all."

The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry, Marcus and Hermione walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall. Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Harry as though the teddy was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry and Hermione covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it themselves. "Mommy will never forget you!"

"All right, so what's your big plan here, Marcus?" asked Hermione.

"Just look away for a second," said Marcus.

So, while Harry and Hermione were getting ready to go, Marcus put his wand over his head, whispered, "Absconditus!" and started waving it in circles.

"Marcus, where are you?" hissed Harry.

"I'm right beside you," said Marcus, who nearly made the two of them leap. "Let's go."

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another - even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

"Finally!" hissed Marcus. "This dragon is getting more irritable by the freaking minute!"

Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you -"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter and Marcus Williams are coming - they've got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on - I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," Harry advised her.

"Yes, please don't," said Marcus, who was visible to them again.

Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate, Marcus chastising it each time it did so. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry, Marcus and Hermione the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then the three of them shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going...going...gone.

They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon - Malfoy in detention - what could spoil their happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we are in trouble."

"Oh, damn it all," said Marcus, facepalming himself.

They'd left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.

**It's finally getting down to the nitty gritty, isn't it? I'm really excited to post the final chapters, which should be up by the time you reach this point! Thank you all once again!**


	14. The Forbidden Forest

**Ah, the calm before the storm! Well, I guess it's not really calm, but you get the point! Moving on, let's add this in here:**

**Disclaimer: HP is under the ownership of someone else, not me. Believe me, I've tried to get it, but she wouldn't budge. The OC's are, though, so she can't get a hold of those.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 13: The Forbidden Forest

Things couldn't have been worse.

Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover-up stories chased each other around Harry's brain, each more feeble than the last. He couldn't see how they were going to get out of trouble this time. They were cornered. How could they have been so stupid as to forget the cloak? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already. He looked over to Marcus, who looked lost in thought, perhaps trying to come up with a way to get out of this jam.

Had Harry thought that things couldn't have been worse? He was wrong. When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville.

"Harry! Marcus!" Neville burst out, the moment he saw the other three. "I was trying to find and warn you two, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you both, he said you had a drag -"

Marcus gave him a death stare that shut Neville right up, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the four of them.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.

However, Marcus said, "It's my fault, ma'am. I wasn't able to sleep, so I wanted to get some fresh air, and I convinced Harry and Hermione to do the same. I heard that the Astronomy Tower was the best place to be to get some fresh air, so that's exactly where we went."

"And the dragon?" said Professor McGonagall.

"Malfoy must've been trying to stir trouble, making up the dragon story, and Neville must've been led to believe it to be true, hence why he went out of his way to warn us."

After looking at Marcus for a full minute, Professor McGonagall said, "Well, I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on. It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You two fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you both think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"

Harry caught Neville's eye and tried to tell him without words that this wasn't true, because Neville was looking stunned and hurt. Poor, blundering Neville - Harry knew what it must have cost him to try and find them in the dark, to warn them.

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Five students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. Mr. Williams, I will be notifying your parents about this. All four of you will receive detentions - yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous - and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Fifty?" Harry gasped - they would lose the lead, the lead he'd won in the last Quidditch match.

"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Seriously?!" asked a shocked Marcus.

"Professor - please-"

"You can't -"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

Two hundred points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had for the house cup. Harry felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. How could they ever make up for this?

As the four of them were making their way back to Gryffindor Tower, Marcus said, "Well, at least I tried."

"Don't beat yourself up, Marcus," Harry told him. "You came up with a better story than I could have."

"Yeah, but this wasn't one of our better night," Marcus pointed out, dejected at the thought of letting Gryffindor down. "I'm really sorry, Neville. I'll make it up to you somehow."

All Neville could do was look to the ground in agony as the four of them made their way to their beds.

Harry and Marcus didn't sleep all night. They could hear Neville sobbing into his pillow for what seemed like hours. Harry and Marcus couldn't think of anything to say to comfort him. They knew Neville, like themselves, were dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they'd done?

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have two hundred points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, and Marcus Williams, the Boy Who Won, reputable genius and defender of the weak, had lost them all those points, them and a couple of other stupid first years.

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him. Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as he walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Potter, we owe you one!" Marcus was getting the same treatment as Harry, which caused Marcus to punch some holes in the castle walls to avoid beating his insulters half to death.

Only Ron stood by them.

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."

"They've never lost two hundred points in one go, though, have they?" said Harry miserably.

"Well - no," Ron admitted.

That same morning at breakfast, Marcus's owl, Archie, came swooping down, dropping off a letter, to which he said, "Oh, crap."

"It's not a Howler, is it?" asked Ron, who edged himself away from Marcus.

"No, but it might as well be," said Marcus, who (despite his better judgement), opened the letter and started reading:

_Marcus,_

_ Professor McGonagall informed us about your escapades last night, involving your friends and a dragon. Don't you dare do something that reckless again, or so help me, you will be punished severely._

Marcus gulped and said, "Good thing they didn't send a Howler." He then continued to read:

_ She also said that you attempted to take the blame for your friends and, while I do not condone your actions, I will tell you that it was a noble thing to do. Next time, however, know when to keep your mouth shut._

_ Okay, enough about that. Before all this happened, Braxton sent me a letter addressed to you and told me to send it to you straightaway. It should be enclosed with this letter._

_ Keep yourself out of trouble for the rest of the year, and be sure to give your friends our best regards._

_ Love,_

_ Mom and Dad_

"Who's Braxton?" asked Hermione.

Marcus didn't answer as he grabbed the letter behind that one and read:

_Marcus,_

_ This is getting to you a little late, little man. Sorry about that. Normally, something like this is sent out ahead of time._

_ Anyway, this letter is a formal invitation to our U.S. Chaser Advanced Course. It's set for the last week of June and goes up to the seventh of July. I know that Jasper and Harley are looking forward to you attending, so if you do plan on coming, be sure to send word back to me as soon as possible._

_ Get psyched, Marcus! This time, you'll be learning all the good moves! Enjoy the rest of the school year at Hogwarts, little man!_

_ Signed,_

_ U.S. Quidditch Team Captain,_

_ Percival Braxton_

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed. "You've been invited to learn Chaser moves from U.S.'s own Braxton?!"

"Who's that?" Harry asked.

"Only one of the three best Chasers in the whole Wizarding world," said Marcus. "I've been hoping it would come, but it doesn't have much impact now."

Marcus then proceeded to write:

_Mom and Dad,_

_ I know, it was stupid to be out at night, but I promise, if I can help it, I won't be out at night anymore._

_ Regardless, the damage is done. Every student besides my friends and Slytherin hate my guts now. Harry's not better off than me, unfortunately. At the moment, I'm studying for upcoming finals. _

_ Oh, before I forget, that dragon story was real, and Hagrid did have a Norwegian Ridgeback. It's gone now, but please don't tell anyone. Anyway, somehow, I was able to talk to the dragon! Can you please tell me what's up with that?!_

_ Love,_

_ Marcus_

As Marcus wrote another quick letter to Braxton, accepting the invitation and sent them off with his own owl, Marcus continued, "It pretty much came a day late and a Galleon short, if you catch my drift. Still, hopefully this all blows over soon."

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harry swore to himself not to meddle in things that weren't his business from now on. He'd had it with sneaking around and spying. He felt so ashamed of himself that he went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team.

"Resign?" Wood thundered. "What good'll that do? How are we going to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?"

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him "the Seeker."

Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harry and Marcus, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence.

Harry was almost glad that the exams weren't far away. All the studying he had to do kept his mind off his misery. He, Marcus, Ron, and Hermione kept to themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions...

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harry's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern him was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library with Marcus one afternoon, he heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he drew closer, they heard Quirrell's voice.

"No - no - not again, please -"

It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Harry and Marcus moved closer.

"All right - all right -" he heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Harry didn't think Quirrell had even noticed him or Marcus. He waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. The two of them were halfway toward it before Harry remembered what he'd promised himself about not meddling.

All the same, Harry'd have gambled twelve Sorcerer's Stones that Snape had just left the room, and from what he had just heard, Snape would be walking with a new spring in his step - Quirrell seemed to have given in at last.

Harry and Marcus went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy. They proceeded to tell them what they'd heard.

"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell -"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do?"

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Hermione answered before Harry could.

"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But we've got no proof!" said Marcus.

"And Quirrell's too scared to back us up," Harry pointed out. "Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor - who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't.

"If we just do a bit of poking around -"

"No," said Marcus flatly, "we've done enough poking around."

He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of its moons.

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Marcus, Hermione, and Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.

Professor McGonagall

Harry had forgotten they still had detentions to do in the furor over the points they'd lost. He half expected Hermione to complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but she didn't say a word. Like Harry, she felt they deserved what they'd got.

"Well, this should be interesting," said Marcus. "I wonder just what we'll have to do."

At eleven o'clock that night, they said good-bye to Ron in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there - and so was Malfoy. Harry had also forgotten that Malfoy had gotten a detention, too.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at them. "Oh yes... hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me... It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out... hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed... Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

"Like I would even bother," muttered Marcus and Harry, despite the situation, had to stifle his laughter.

They marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. Harry, like Marcus earlier today, wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Harry could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Harry's heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. His relief must have showed in his -face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy - it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

"I wasn't wrong about it being interesting, that much is for sure," Marcus remarked.

At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night - there's all sorts of things in there - werewolves, I heard."

Neville clutched the sleeve of Harry's robe and made a choking noise.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Marcus, Hermione?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, and Harry was pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yehve got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd -"

"-tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on."

Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

Marcus, unable to resist, said, "Aww, what's the matter, Malfoy? Did you lose what was left of your spine?"

Harry and Hermione stifled their laughter while Malfoy shot Marcus a nasty look.

"Right then," said Hagrid, which made all of them dead quiet, "Now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. " So me, Harry, Marcus an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now - that's it - an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh - so, be careful - let's go."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Marcus, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Neville, and Fang took the right.

They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves.

Harry and Marcus saw that Hagrid looked very worried.

"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Harry asked.

"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."

They walked past a mossy tree stump. Harry could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.

"You all right, Hermione?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter - GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized the three of them and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The four of them listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away.

"I knew it, " he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

"A werewolf?" Harry suggested.

"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now."

They walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself - I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came - was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped.

"Wait, there's centaurs in the forest?" Marcus asked, just as shocked as Harry and Hermione were. "Well, I guess you learn something new everyday."

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Harry Potter, Marcus Williams, an' Hermione Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you two. He's a centaur."

"We'd noticed," said Hermione faintly.

"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"

"Erm -"

"A bit," said Hermione timidly.

"Here and there, I suppose," said Marcus.

"A bit here and there. Well, that's something." Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up, too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt - you seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed again.

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright."

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home, said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets."

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured - would yeh know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. "Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."

Harry, Marcus, and Hermione followed him out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.

"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."

"Are there many of them in here?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, a fair few... Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs... they know things... jus' don' let on much."

"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Harry.

"Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what's bin killin' the unicorns - never heard anythin' like it before."

"And I suppose the centuars don't bother to help out with anything?" asked Marcus.

"Like I said before, they're not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon," Hagrid stated.

They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Harry kept looking nervously over his shoulder. He had the nasty feeling they were being watched. He was very glad they had Hagrid and his crossbow with them. They had just passed a bend in the path when Hermione grabbed Hagrid's arm.

"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You three wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"

They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very scared, until they couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them.

"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" whispered Hermione.

"I don't care if Malfoy has, but if something's got Neville... it's our fault he's here in the first place."

"I'd bet Galleons Malfoy did something to scare Neville," stated Marcus.

The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Harry's seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig. What was going on? Where were the others?

At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Malfoy, Neville, and Fang were with him. Hagrid was fuming. Malfoy, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Neville and grabbed him as a joke. Neville had panicked and sent up the sparks.

"Can't say I'm surprised," said Marcus.

"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups - Neville, you stay with me an' Hermione, Harry, Marcus, you go with Fang an' this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid added in a whisper to the boys, "but he'll have a harder time frightenin' you two, an' we've gotta get this done."

So Harry and Marcus set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Harry thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Harry could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look -" he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy and Marcus.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.

Harry had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered... Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Marcus, Malfoy, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted - so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry and Marcus - unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward the two of them - Harry couldn't move for fear. Marcus, noticing this, stepped in front of Harry, his eyes glowing gold, and said, "If you want Harry, you're going to have to get through me first."

Then a pain like Harry'd never felt before pierced his head; it was as though his scar were on fire. Half blinded, he staggered backward. He heard hooves behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over Harry, charging at the figure.

The pain in Harry's head was so bad he fell to his knees. It took a minute or two to pass. When he looked up, the figure had gone. A centaur was standing over him and Marcus, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body.

"Are you two all right?" said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet.

"Yes - thank you - what was that?"

The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes almost like Marcus, almost like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry and Marcus, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead.

"You are the Potter boy," he said. " And you are the Williams boy. You both had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time - especially for the two of you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way.

"My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that Harry and Marcus could clamber onto his back.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

"Firenze!" Bane thundered. "What are you doing? You have humans on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realize who they are?" said Firenze. "This is the Potter boy and the Williams boy. The quicker they leave this forest, the better."

"What have you been telling them?" growled Bane. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

"He told us nothing of importance," growled Marcus, who was getting quite irritated with Bane.

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best, " he said in his gloomy voice.

Bane kicked his back legs in anger.

"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"

Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harry and Marcus had to grab his shoulders to stay on.

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Bane. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

And Firenze whisked around; with the two boys clutching on as best they could, they plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them.

Harry didn't have a clue what was going on and, when he looked at Marcus, neither did he.

"Why's Bane so angry?" Harry asked. "What was that thing you saved us from, anyway?"

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry and Marcus to keep their heads bowed in case of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harry's question. They made their way through the trees in silence for so long that Harry thought Firenze didn't want to talk to him anymore. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.

"Harry Potter, Marcus Williams, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," said Harry, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions."

"It's used to prevent someone from dying, no matter how close they are to it," said Marcus, his face disgusted at the thought.

"That is correct, Marcus," said Firenze. "It is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. As Marcus just told, the blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

Harry stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight while Marcus was looking at the ground.

"But who'd be that desperate?" Harry wondered aloud. "If you're going to be cursed forever, deaths better, isn't it?"

"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else - something that will bring you back to full strength and power - something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter, Mr. Williams, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Sorcerer's Stone! Of course - the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who -"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" exclaimed Marcus. "Him?!"

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told him on the night they had met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die."

"Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was Vol-"

"Harry! Marcus! Are you all right?"

Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"We're fine," said Harry, hardly knowing what he was saying. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."

"This is where I leave you two," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."

Harry and Marcus slid off his back.

"Good luck, Harry Potter, Marcus Williams," said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry shivering behind him and Marcus lost in thought once more.

Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return. He shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harry roughly shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Harry and Marcus began to tell him and Hermione what had happened in the forest.

They couldn't sit down. They paced up and down in front of the fire. He was still shaking.

"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort... and Voldemort's waiting in the forest... and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich..."

"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear them.

"Ron, man up already!" said Marcus.

Harry wasn't listening.

"Firenze saved us, but he shouldn't have done so... Bane was furious... he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen... They must show that Voldemort's coming back... Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill us... I suppose that's written in the stars as well."

"Will you stop saying the name!" Ron hissed.

"Ron, not now!" growled Marcus.

"So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Harry went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off... Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy."

Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.

"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's one of two people You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over.

When Harry pulled back his sheets, he found his invisibility cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:

Just in case.

**Only two chapters left! I'm very excited to get those chapters up, because they'll signal the end of one adventure and the start of another one! Thank you all for reading and continue on to the next chapter!**


	15. Through the Trapdoor

**After this, only one chapter left! Thank you all so much for reading this! I promise you, it's only going to get more interesting from this book out! With that, here's this:**

**Disclaimer: Everyone knows the drill here: I don't own HP, just the OC's.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 14: Through the Trapdoor

In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams when he half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox - points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.

Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead, which had been bothering him ever since his trip into the forest. Neville thought Harry had a bad case of exam nerves because Harry couldn't sleep, but the truth was that Harry kept being woken by his old nightmare, except that it was now worse than ever because there was a hooded figure dripping blood in it.

Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harry and Marcus had seen in the forest, or because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads, but Ron and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the Stone as the two of them did. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have much time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harry couldn't help cheering with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

"None of the tests were really that hard," Marcus said to Hermione. "Of course, Potions was no picnic, what with Snape over my shoulder like an overgrown vulture, but other than that, it wasn't that bad."

Hermione and Marcus always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. "No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

Harry was rubbing his forehead.

"I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting - it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming..."

"Well, it would be nice to know what kind of danger," Marcus remarked. "That way, we'll be well informed.

Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.

"Harry, Marcus, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Harry nodded, but he couldn't shake off a lurking feeling that there was something he'd forgotten to do, something important. When he tried to explain this, Hermione said, "That's just the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one."

Harry was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do with work, though. He watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only one who ever sent him letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy... never... but -

Harry suddenly jumped to his feet.

"Where're you going?" said Ron sleepily.

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

"Oh, Merlin's Beard, you're totally right!" said Marcus, staying in stride with Harry. "Wow, that's super obvious now!"

"What are you guys talking about?" said Ron, but Harry and Marcus, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.

"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."

He saw the four of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head - that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. Marcus looked Hagrid straight in the eyes and said, "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks... Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."

"And did he - did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, try ing to keep his voice calm.

"Well - yeah - how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep -"

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey - where're yeh goin'?"

The four of them didn't speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.

"Well, that's just great," Marcus said to them. "Throw Hagrid a few beers, and his mouth starts running. What do we do now?!"

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak - it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.

"We'll just have to -" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

"What are you four doing inside?"

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather bravely, the boys thought.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

Harry swallowed - now what?

"It's sort of secret," he said, but he wished at once he hadn't, because Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's gone?" said Harry frantically. "Now?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time -

"But this is important, Professor!" exclaimed Marcus. "Much more important than any of those windbags at the Ministry!"

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, boys?"

"Look," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor - it's about the Sorcerer's stone -"

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up. "How do you know -?" she spluttered.

"Professor, I think - I know - that Sn- that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. We've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"But Professor -" Marcus began.

"Williams, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

But they didn't.

"It's tonight," said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"We'll just have to be prepared for anything and hope for the best," Marcus said to them.

"But what can we -"

Hermione gasped. Harry, Marcus and Ron wheeled round.

Snape was standing there.

"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.

They stared at him.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.

"We can be wherever we want, Professor" Marcus told him, getting scared looks from his friends.

"You want to be more careful, Williams," said Snape with a more menacing smile. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"

Marcus flushed. They turned to go outside, but Snape called them back.

"Be warned, Potter, Williams - any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you both are expelled. Good day to you."

He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.

Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to the others.

"Right, here's what we've got to do," he whispered urgently. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape - wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that."

"Why me?"

"The real question here is why not," Marcus said to her.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice, "'Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong...'"

"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, but she agreed to go and watch out for Snape.

"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Marcus told Harry and Ron. "Come on."

But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had they reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again and this time, she lost her temper.

"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you 've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own house!" Harry, Marcus and Ron went back to the common room, Harry had just said, "At least Hermione's on Snape's tail," when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermione came in.

"I'm sorry, guys!" she wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away, I don't know where Snape went."

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said.

"There's no way around it, is there?" Marcus said, that hungry looks in his eyes present and the unnatural grin forming on his face.

The other two stared at them. Harry was pale and his eyes were glittering.

"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."

"And beat the crap out of anything that gets in my way," Marcus chimed in.

"You're both mad!" said Ron.

"You can't!" said Hermione. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll both be expelled!"

"SO WHAT," Harry shouted. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"

"And I'll be dead before I just sit aside and let Voldemort come back," Marcus stated. "Because, if Voldemort comes back, so does his followers, and then the Wizarding World will have a real problem on their hands."

Harry and Marcus glared at them.

"You're both right," said Hermione in a small voice.

"I'll use the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It's just lucky I got it back."

"But will it cover all four of us?" said Ron.

"All - all four of us?"

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you two go alone?"

"Of course not," said Hermione briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and took through my books, there might be something useful..."

"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too."

"Not if I can help it," said Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

After dinner the three of them sat nervously apart in the common room with Marcus anxiously pacing the room. Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry and Marcus any more, after all. This was the first night they hadn't been upset by it. Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try to break. The boys didn't talk much. All of them were thinking about what they were about to do.

Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.

"Better get the cloak," Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. He putted out the cloak and then his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on Fluffy - he didn't feel much like singing.

He ran back down to the common room.

"We'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all four of us - if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own -"

"It's not going to cover all of us," Marcus whispered. "It's all right, though, I've got that covered. Watch-"

"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.

"Nothing, Neville, nothing," said Harry, hurriedly putting the cloak behind his back.

Neville stared at their guilty faces.

"You're going out again," he said.

"No, no, no," said Hermione. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville?"

Harry looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.

"You can't go out," said Neville, "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"You don't understand," said Harry, "this is important."

But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.

I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll - I'll fight you!"

"Neville, "Ron exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot -"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville. I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to us," said Ron in exasperation. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."

He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt out of sight.

"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville, raising his fists. "I'm ready!"

"Neville, stand to the side before I knock you out," growled Marcus.

Harry turned to Hermione.

"Do something," he said desperately.

Hermione stepped forward.

"Neville," she said, "I'm really, really sorry about this."

She raised her wand.

"Petrificus Totalus!" she cried, pointing it at Neville.

Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board.

Hermione ran to turn him over. Neville's jaws were jammed together so he couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.

"What've you done to him?" Harry whispered.

"It's the full Body-Bind," said Hermione miserably. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry."

"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," said Harry.

"You'll understand later, Neville," said Ron as they stepped over him and pulled on the invisibility cloak.

"Wait, what about Marcus?" Hermioned asked them.

"Right," said Marcus, who raised his wand over his head and whispered, "Absconditus!"

As he started to disappear, Ron said, "Bloody Hell! How did you do that?"

"No time to explain," Marcus said in a hurry. "Let's go."

As Harry kept thinking about Neville lying motionless on the floor, he had a feeling that it wasn't a very good omen for them. In their nervous state, every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them. At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.

"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Ron whispered in Harry's ear, but Harry shook his head. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything.

They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them.

"Let me throw something at him, just this once," said Marcus, who was whispering as low as possible.

"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."

Harry had a sudden idea.

"Peeves," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake - I didn't see you - of course I didn't, you're invisible - forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harry. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

And he scooted off.

"Brilliant, Harry!" whispered Ron.

"Wish I would've thought of that sooner," moaned Marcus.

A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor - and the door was already ajar.

"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly, "Snape's already got past Fluffy."

Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all four of them what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harry turned to the other two while Marcus was rendering himself visible.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron.

"We're coming," said Hermione.

"Let's get going already, we're wasting time," said Marcus.

Harry pushed the door open.

As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here goes..."

He put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. Harry hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased - it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned Harry as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads. "I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"I'll go first," said Marcus.

"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Nothing - just black - there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."

Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Ron and Marcus to get going.

"All right, Marcus, that's your cue," said Ron. "I don't know how deep this thing goes, though. Harry, give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."

Harry handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.

Marcus climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom.

He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to me or Harry, don't follow. Go straight to the Owlery and send Archie to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," said Ron.

"See you in a minute, I hope..."

And Marcus let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and - FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant.

"It's all right!" he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which was the open trapdoor, "It's a soft landing, so get down here already!"

Harry followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to Marcus, followed by Ron, who stumbled upon landing.

"What's this stuff?" were Ron's first words.

"Dunno, some sort of plant thing," Harry stated. "I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Hermione!"

The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Hermione had already jumped. She landed on Marcus's other side.

"We must be miles under the school," she said.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron.

"Lucky!" shrieked Hermione. "Look at you three!"

She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. She had to struggle because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around her ankles. As for the boys, their legs had already been bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing.

Hermione had managed to free herself before the plant got a firm grip on her. Now she watched in horror as Harry and Ron fought to pull the plant off them, but the more they strained against it, the tighter and faster the plant wound around them.

"Stop moving!" Marcus ordered them. "I know what this is - it's Devil's Snare!" Hermione exclaimed

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ron, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck. "Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione.

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare... what did Professor Sprout say? - it likes the dark and the damp-"

"So light a fire!" Harry choked.

"Yes - of course - but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron and Marcus bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?!"

"Oh, right!" said Hermione, and with Marcus, they whipped out their wands, waved them, muttered something, and sent jets of the same bluebell flames Hermione had used on Snape at the plant. In a matter of seconds, the three boys felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free.

"Lucky the two of you pay attention in Herbology," said Harry as he joined them by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.

"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Harry and Marcus don't lose their heads in a crisis - 'there's no wood,' honestly."

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Harry was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon - Norbert had been bad enough...

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.

Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?"

"It can't be a ghost," said Marcus. "These sounds sound like solid objects."

"Sounds like wings to me."

"There's light ahead - I can see something moving."

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll run."

"Oh, please," Marcus said. "What is there possibly to fear here?"

Harry took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at him any second, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.

The other three followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora charm.

"Now what?" said Ron.

"These birds... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.

They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering - glittering?

"Birds don't glitter like that," stated Marcus, confused.

"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys - look carefully. So that must mean..." he looked around the chamber while the other three squinted up at the flock of keys. "... yes - look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!" Hermione pointed out.

Ron examined the lock on the door.

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one - probably silver, like the handle."

They each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.

Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.

"That one!" he called to the others. "That big one - there - no, there - with bright blue wings - the feathers are all crumpled on one side."

Ron went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.

"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above - Hermione, stay below and stop it from going down - Marcus, come from behind me and provide back-up and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"

Ron dived, Hermione rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, and Harry and Marcus streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron, Marcus, and Hermione's cheers echoed around the high chamber.

They landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned - it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" Harry asked the other two, his hand on the door handle. They nodded. He pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry, Marcus, Ron and Hermione shivered slightly - the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Marcus, pointing to the chessboard. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

"How?" said Hermione nervously.

"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we - er - have to join you to get across?" The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other three.

"This needs thinking about," he said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of four of the black pieces..."

Harry and Hermione stayed quiet, watching Ron and Marcus think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess -"

"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go next to him instead of that castle."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.

"And I'll be the rook on the other side," said Marcus.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, and two castles turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving four empty squares that Harry, Ron, Marcus and Hermione took.

"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes... look..."

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry's knees were trembling. What if they lost?

"Harry - move diagonally four squares to the right."

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.

"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Marcus and Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermione were in danger. They darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," Ron muttered suddenly. "Let me think, let me think..."

The white queen turned her blank face toward him.

"Yes..." said Ron softly, "It's the only way... I've got to be taken."

"NO!" Harry and Hermione shouted.

"That's chess!" snapped Marcus. "You've got to make some sacrifices! Ron'll take one step forward and she'll take him - that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"But -"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?" Ron asked.

"Ron -"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

There was no alternative.

"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go - now, don't hang around once you've won."

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor - Hermione screamed but stayed on her square - the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.

Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, Harry, Marcus and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's -?"

"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "What do you reckon's next?"

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's."

"I'm not sure which one I want next," said Marcus, his face grim at the prospect of what they could be facing next.

They had reached another door.

"All right?" Harry whispered.

"Go on."

Harry pushed it open.

At once, they heard a growl that could only mean one thing: They had to deal with another Troll.

"Looks like I'm up," said Marcus. "Harry, Hermione, get to one side."

Harry and Hermione immediately clung to the nearest wall while the mountainous Troll was looking at Marcus, whose eyes were already the color gold.

"What's the matter, you ugly troll?" Marcus asked, taunting it. "Your arm too weak to swing the club?"

The troll roared and swung the club directly down on Marcus, who dodged to one side and he pointed his wand at the club and shouted, "Locomotor Club!"

As the troll tried to bring the club back up, he found himself empty-handed, leaving him very much confused.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Marcus said in a mocking voice, "I'm afraid I have your club. Here, you can have it back!"

At his last word, Marcus whirled around in a circle, causing the club to sweep the Troll's legs and, before he could get back up, Marcus whipped his wand to bring the club over the troll's head and said, "Finite Incantatum!"

The club came crashing down on the troll's head, effectively knocking it out.

"Not too bad," said Marcus, who took a whiff and said, "Unlike that smell! Merlin's Beard, let's get going to the next room!"

Marcus, followed by Harry and Hermione, pulled open the next door, the three of them hardly daring to look at what came next - but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.

"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry and Marcus looked over her shoulder to read it:

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

Hermione let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.

"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic - it's logic - a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."

"A logic puzzle, huh?" Marcus said out loud. "I'll admit, this was well played by that evil git."

"But won't we be stuck in here forever?" Harry asked. "Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

"But how do we know which to drink?"

"Give me a minute."

Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands.

"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire - toward the Stone."

Harry looked at the tiny bottle.

"There's only enough there for two of us," he said. "That's hardly one gulp."

They looked at each other.

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

"You drink that," said Marcus. "No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy - go straight to the owlery and send Archie to Dumbledore, we need him. Harry and I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but we're no match for him, really."

"But Harry, Marcus - what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well - I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."

"And I'm not going down without a fight," said Marcus with a smirk on his face.

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and Marcus and threw her arms around them.

"Hermione!"

"Harry - you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of them.

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things - friendship and bravery and - oh Harry - be careful! You too, Marcus! Keep a level head, and you'll be just fine!"

"Oh, Hermione, stop worrying about me," said Marcus with that same smirk.

"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.

"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.

"No - but it's like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off," Marcus told her.

"Good luck - take care."

"GO!" they said at the same time.

Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

Marcus looked at Harry and said, "Well, this is it, Harry. Let's give it our best shot."

"Are you nervous?" asked Harry.

"Nervous? Nah," he replied. "Just anxious to finally get down to the bottom of this."

"Well, then, let's get going," said Harry.

Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames.

"Here we come," he said, and he drained half of the little bottle in one gulp. He handed it off to Marcus, who quickly gulped the rest.

It was indeed as though ice were flooding their bodies. Marcus put the bottle down and they walked forward; Harry braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body, but couldn't feel them - for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire - then he and Marcus were on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was already someone there - but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.

**Next chapter is the final chapter! YES! I'm glad you've been reading this story all the way through! It really makes posting this worth it! Final chapter should be up right about now!**


	16. The Man With Two Faces

**YES! HECK YEAH! The final chapter of the first book in my series is finally done! Thank you all so much for reading this through! After this, all posts in accordance to this series will be up one chapter at a time, so unfortunately, there'll be no shotgun posts like this anymore. Anyway, for the last time in this book...**

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling. Enough said.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 15: The Man With Two Faces

It was Quirrell.

"You!" gasped Harry.

"I knew it, you sneaky bastard," Marcus growled.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter, Williams."

"But I thought - Snape -"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.

Marcus, however, pointed a finger at him and said, "You were the one that tried to kill Harry at the Quidditch match, not Snape!"

"You're sharp, Williams, just like your father," said Quirrell. "Yes, it is true: I tried to kill you, Potter. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you."

"Snape was trying to save me?" asked a bewildered Harry.

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really... he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular... and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill both of you tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry and Marcus.

"You're both far too nosy to live, boys. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you both had seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"So, you did let the Troll in, after all!" exclaimed Marcus.

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls," said Quirrell. "Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off - and not only did my troll fail to beat you both to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly."

"Now, wait quietly, boys. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harry and Marcus realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back..."

All Harry and Marcus could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest -" Harry blurted out.

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me - as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side..."

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.

"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?"

Harry and Marcus struggled against the ropes binding them, but they didn't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.

"But Snape always seems to hate Harry," stated Marcus.

"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "Heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, Potter, didn't you know? Yours as well, Williams. The two of them loathed each other, Severus and James. But he never wanted you dead."

"But we definitely heard you a few days ago, sobbing," Marcus said. "Obviously, someone was threatening you..."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions - he is a great wizard and I am weak -"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me..."

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harry and Marcus were remembering their trip to Diagon Alley. How could they have been so stupid? They'd seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with them in the Leaky Cauldron.

Quirrell cursed under his breath.

"I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harry's mind was racing.

"What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment," he thought, "Is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it - which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?"

Harry tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

"Use the boys... Use the boys..."

Quirrell rounded on Marcus.

"Yes - Williams - come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Marcus fell off. Harry watched as Marcus got slowly to his feet.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Marcus walked toward him.

"If I get the stone, I'll have to ensure Voldemort doesn't get it," Marcus thought to himself. "But, I don't even want the stone, much less get it out of this foul mirror."

As soon as he was squarely in front of the mirror, Marcus saw the beautiful girl from last time, looking at him with that amazing smile. He saw the stone in her hands, who put her hands behind her, gave a wink, and then put her hands in front of her, without the stone.

"What is it?" asked Quirrell. "What do you see?"

"I see myself going toe-to-toe with Voldemort," said Marcus. He turned to face Quirrell and smirked as he finished, "And defeating him with utter ease."

"You useless boy!" yelled Quirrell as he sent Marcus flying towards Harry. Marcus regained himself to land on his feet, but immediately fell to one knee.

"All right, Potter, you're next," said Quirrell sharply.

"I must lie," he thought desperately. "I must look and lie about what I see, that's all."

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket - and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow - incredibly - he'd gotten the Stone.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

Harry screwed up his courage.

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invented. "I - I've won the house cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again.

"Get out of the way," he said. As Harry moved aside, he felt the Sorcerer's Stone against his leg. Dare he make a break for it?

But he hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

"He lies... He lies..."

"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

The high voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to them... face-to-face..."

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough... for this..."

Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harry Potter...Marcus Williams..." it whispered.

Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor ... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now...Harry...why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stumbled backward while Marcus was making his way next to Harry.

"Don't be fools," snarled the face. "Better save your own lives and join me... or you'll meet the same end as Harry's parents... They died begging me for mercy..."

"LIAR!" Harry and Marcus shouted suddenly.

Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see them. The evil face was now smiling.

"How touching..." it hissed. "I always value bravery... Yes, Potter, your parents were brave... I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you... Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

"NEVER!"

Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed "SEIZE HIM!" and the next second, Harry turned around to see Marcus standing in front of him, arms out, saying, "You'll get to Harry only after you've killed me!"

"Marcus, no!" Harry yelled.

Voldemort recoiled and said, "Ah, those eyes of gold! How revolting they are. I remember them well, boy. Your meddlesome mother has eyes just like those. Perhaps I shall give you to my most faithful follower, the Dark Prince, after I've regained a body. I'm sure he's eager to finish you off!"

Harry heard Marcus growl before yelling, "THAT'S IT, NOW YOU DIE!"

The next second, Harry saw Marcus blast fire at Quirrell, who dissapated them before it could make contact. However, Quirrell was too late to notice Marcus charging at them, who toppled Quirrell to the ground and started fist-fighting him.

"HARRY!" yelled Marcus. "RUN!"

Harry once again tried to make a break for it, but very suddenly heard Marcus hit a wall. When he turned around to see if he was all right, he saw Quirrell's hand close on his wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head lessened - he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers - they were blistering before his eyes.

"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet' landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck - Harry's scar was almost blinding him with pain, yet he could see Quirrell howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold him - my hands - my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms - Harry could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.

"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort.

"OVER MY DEAD BODY!" yelled Marcus, who came out of nowhere and leaped onto Quirrell's back and started trying to bring Quirrell to the ground.

Quirrell did his best to raise his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face -

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain - his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.

Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could, Marcus using every muscle in his body to inhibit Quirrell, who screamed and tried to throw Harry and Marcus off - the pain in Harry's head was building - he couldn't see - he could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" and other voices, maybe in Harry's own head, crying, "Harry! Harry!"

He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down ... down... down...

* * *

As Marcus saw Harry faint, Marcus yelled, "Get off of Harry, you freak!"

Then, it all happened very fast: Dumbledore came out of nowhere, Marcus noticing him and only jumping off Quirrell in time before Dumbledore blasted him to bits, and Dumbledore approaching Marcus, saying, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," said Marcus. "Harry's not. He's fainted. Haven't the foggiest why, though."

As Marcus looked at the Mirror of Erised, he asked, "Professor, what should we do with the Mirror?"

Dumbledore, picking up Harry in his arms, said, "Well, the mirror doesn't seem to really fit in anywhere, does it?"

Picking up on his implication, Marcus smirked and said, "You're absolutely right." He then proceeded to run straight at the mirror and gave it a nice punch, utterly shattering the mirror.

"Serves you right, you foul pane of despair," said Marcus out loud.

"Come, Marcus," said Dumbledore. "Follow me."

Trusting entirely in Dumbledore, Marcus followed him, too tired to tell where it was they were going.

* * *

Something gold was glinting just above him. The Snitch! He tried to catch it, but his arms were too heavy.

He blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange.

He blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above him.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore. Harry stared at him. Then he remembered: "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick -"

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir, I -"

"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he must be in the hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to him was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop. On the other side of him was Marcus lying in bed, oblivious to the world.

Harry smiled before turning to Dumbledore and asking, "Where did these come from?"

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you, Marcus and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you both a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you two. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated them."

"How long have we been in here?"

"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you both have come round, they have been extremely worried."

"But sir, the Stone-"

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you and Marcus were doing very well on your own, I must say.

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to finish what you two started."

"It was you."

"I feared I might be too late."

"You nearly were, we couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer -"

"Not the Stone, boy, you - the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" said Harry blankly. "But your friend - Nicolas Flamel -"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?" Harry asked.

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry's face.

"To a person as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all - the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them." Harry laid there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.

"Sir?" said Harry. "I've been thinking... sir - even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know- Who -"

"Call him Voldemort," said Dumbledore with a smile. "Always use the proper name for things, Harry. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share... not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time - and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me... things I want to know the truth about..."

"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Well... Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day... put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older... I know you hate to hear this... when you are ready, you will know."

And Harry knew it would be no good to argue.

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he had found his voice again, Harry said, "And the invisibility cloak - do you know who sent it to me?"

"Ah - your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things... your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."

"And there's something else..."

"Fire away."

"Quirrell said Snape -"

"Professor Snape, Harry." "Yes, him - Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"

"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

"What?"

"Yes..." said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt... I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace..."

Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he stopped.

"And sir, there's one more thing..."

"Just the one?"

"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone - find it, but not use it - would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes... Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomitflavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them - but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"

Dumbledore then turned his attention over to Harry's right, which was where Marcus was sleeping and said with a smile, "We shouldn't let young Marcus here miss out on all these delightful sweets." He approached the bedside of the still sleeping Marcus, pointed his wand at his chest, and suddenly Marcus groaned, opened his eyes, and said, "Professor, how long-"

"Three days, Marcus," said the headmaster. "And you'll find that your efforts have not been in vain."

He gestured towards Harry, who Marcus looked at and said, "Well, Harry, looks like we've managed to pull it off, huh?"

Harry could only smile as he saw Professor Dumbledore walk out of the Hospital Wing.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice woman, but very strict.

"Just five minutes," Harry pleaded.

"Absolutely not."

"You let Professor Dumbledore in," Marcus pointed out.

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. Both of you need rest."

"We're resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey..."

"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only."

And she let Ron and Hermione in.

"Harry! Marcus!"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around them again, but they were glad she held herself in as their heads were still very sore.

"Oh, Harry, Marcus, we were sure you were going to - Dumbledore was so worried -"

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What really happened?"

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harry and Marcus told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Marcus told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what he said, but Dumbledore thinks that - what was it? - 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his heros were.

"So what happened to you two?" said Marcus.

"Well, I got back all right," said Hermione. "I brought Ron round - that took a while - and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall - he already knew - he just said, 'Harry and Marcus have gone after him, haven't they?' and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant you to do it, Harry?" said Ron. "Sending you your father's cloak and everything?"

"Well, " Hermione exploded, "if he did - I mean to say that's terrible - you both could have been killed."

"No, it isn't," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give us a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought Marcus and I had the right to face Voldemort if we could..."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly. "Listen, you've both got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course - you missed the last Quidditch match, Harry, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you - but the food'll be good."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT," she said firmly.

* * *

After a good night's sleep, Harry and Marcus felt nearly back to normal.

"We want to go to the feast," Marcus told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened his many candy boxes. "We can, can't we?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you two are to be allowed to go," she said stiffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be. "And you two have another visitor."

"Oh, good," said Harry. "Who is it?"

Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down next to Harry and Marcus, took one look at them, and burst into tears.

"It's - all - my - ruddy - fault!" he sobbed, his face in his hands. I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh both could've died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!"

"Hagrid!" said Harry and Marcus, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard. "Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him," Harry said to Hagrid.

"Yeh both could've died!" sobbed Hagrid. "An' don' say the name!"

"VOLDEMORT!" Marcus bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he stopped crying. "We've met him and we're calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, we've got loads..."

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds me. I've got yeh a present, Harry."

"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" said Harry anxiously, and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle. "Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. 'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead - anyway, got yeh this..."

It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father.

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos... knew yeh didn' have any... d'yeh like it?"

Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.

Harry and Marcus made their way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. They had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving them one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When Harry and Marcus walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. They slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at them.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts...

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with two hundred and sixty two points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy- two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes..."

"First - to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

"...for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second - to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves - they were a hundred points up. "Third - to Mr. Marcus Williams. For his willingness to sacrifice himself for his friends, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

The Gryffindor students were going bonkers at this point, while Harry noticed Marcus turning red from embarrassment, which was an all-time first.

"Fourth - to Mr. Harry Potter..." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points - exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup - if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, Marcus and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron and Marcus in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.

"Which means, Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry Harry. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls... he would never, ever forget tonight.

Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years with Marcus as a close second. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.

It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "all three of you - I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," said Harry, "I'll need something to look forward to." People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"Good-bye, Marcus!

"See you, Potter!"

"See you next school year, Williams!"

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at them.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry.

"Merlin's Beard, I could really go for a place where I'm not recognized," said Marcus.

He, Ron, Marcus and Hermione passed through the gateway together. "There they are, Mom, there they are, look!"

It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter! Marcus Williams!" she squealed. "Look, Mom! I can see -"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.

"Busy year?" she said.

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Yes, thank you so much," said Marcus.

"Oh, it was nothing, dears."

"Ready, are you?"

It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.

"Oh, crap, them again," muttered Marcus.

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.

"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away.

Harry hung back for a last word with Ron, Marcus and Hermione.

"See you over the summer, then."

"Hope you have - er - a good holiday," said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

"I'd bet 20 Galleons Harry'll be miserably during his time there," Marcus stated.

"Oh, I will have a good holiday," said Harry, and they were all surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer..."

As Harry left, Marcus turned and saw that his Mom and Dad were waiting for him.

"Well, guys, my parents are here, so that's my cue," said Marcus.

"You've got to introduce us to your parents, Marcus!" Ron exclaimed.

"Oh, you'll meet them, right after Chaser camp this summer," said Marcus. "Until then, keep in touch."

As Marcus waved good-bye to Ron and Hermione, he approached his parents, his dad saying, "Well, Marcus, how was it?"

"You know, I'm not so sure why I was unsure before," said Marcus. "Hogwarts does have a way of making it feel like home away from home."

Both Michael and Brynn smiled as Brynn said, "Well, Marcus, time to go home. We've got a lot of stuff to do before you take off for camp."

With that, Marcus grabbed onto his parent's sleeves as they apparated to home.

**IT'S DONE! YES! Thank you so much for reading this to the end! Next will be the second book, so be sure to stick around for that! I'm hoping to post the next chapter sometime before next week. We'll see how that works out! Again, thank you so much!**


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